


My Heart's Home Is You

by xspica



Series: A study In Songs [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Implied Johnlock, M/M, Mollcroft, Really mainly a mollcroft story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspica/pseuds/xspica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly was walking back to her apartment when she saw the glow of the flames lighting up the night skies. Molly stopped walking, her heart rate accelerating as she realized that it was in the direction of her home.</p><p>“Please no.” She said in a small voice as she ran the distance leading up to her apartment. Her heart pounding in her chest as fear pulsated throughout her entire body.</p><p>“Let me through !” She screamed, struggling to shove through the crowd that had gathered. “I live here!” She struggled futilely against the restraints of the police officers as she helplessly watched the firefighters fight the blaze that seem to be unwilling to die out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Begin Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1592405/chapters/3385709)
> 
> It wasn't supposed to be multi-chapter but it appears that in order for me to write the way I want it to be, it would have to be longer than this. This would be the final part to the main story and I may add more parts to the series in future. But this would be pretty much the last part for now. 
> 
> Comments are always greatly appreciated and keeps me motivated ! The next part would be written as quickly as possible, I promise !

* * *

 

My heart's home is you  
The fiction I've dreamt of is finally reality with you  
And you make me so happy that I'm scared to move  
Honey I love, love you.

 

-“Fish” Clara C

 

* * *

 

 

Flip.

Flip.

Flip.

 

Molly couldn’t stop flipping the phone back and forth as she contemplated messaging either Anthea or Mycroft. It has been more than a week after breaking off the engagement and Molly felt more relaxed than she had been in the last few months. It felt as if the clouds have lifted and all her worries have disappeared. But at the same time, Molly had not contacted Anthea or Mycroft at all. She felt that it’s just not possible for her to just waltz back into his life again after breaking his heart last Christmas. 

It’s a highly frustrating situation she is in and Molly misses him so much. She sighs. Matters of the heart are never simple and straightforward, are they? Just then, her phone rang, causing her heart to swell in anticipation. But a look at the caller ID disappointed her.

“Hello?” She picked up the call, trying to not let her disappointment show.

“Molly,” John spoke, then paused as he took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing, “Sherlock. Holmes. Got. To. Pee. In. A. Jar.” John sounded like he was talking through clenched teeth, his tone low and taut.

Molly’s face tensed up at the news, “Yes, I’ve got it, I will get the lab ready right now.” She responded and she heard the call ended with a click.  

After the call ended, she simply stared at the phone before burying her face in her hands. She knew what John meant when he called her and she is simply dreading the results that she already had a vague idea of. _He went back to his old habits again_. And she wondered how Mycroft would take the news. _Definitely not good_.

The day couldn’t be worse. Molly thought.

And obviously, with Sherlock Holmes, the worse could only get worse.

 

* * *

 

“Is he clean?”

“Clean?” Molly turned to John as she angrily removed her gloves, her expression taut, asking in a sarcastic tone. She wanted to laugh so hard, clean? Sherlock Holmes is as high as a freaking kite.

She stood in front of Sherlock and to the surprise of everyone in the lab, she slapped him hard across the face thrice. “How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with and how dare you betray the love of your friends. Say you’re sorry.” Molly demanded, seething as Sherlock touched his cheek.

 _How dare you betray the love of your brother, how dare you._ She silently thought as she continued to glare at Sherlock.

“Sorry your engagement is over. I am fairly grateful for the lack of a ring.” Sherlock commented nonchalantly as he wiped his cheek, unaffected by what just happened.

“Stop it. Just. Stop it.” Molly was boiling with anger as she demanded Sherlock to stop it. It is always a disaster with Sherlock. It always is.

“Oh please, just relax, it is just for a case.” Sherlock explained, clearly exasperated.

“What sort of case would need you to do this?” John questioned, not buying Sherlock’s explanation.

Sherlock ignored John as his phone beeped, he took a quick look at his screen before breaking into a smile, “Finally.”

“Finally what ?” Molly asked, still incensed, but curious at his sudden change in demeanor.

“Excellent news, the best. The game is on! Excuse me for a second.” Sherlock called out as he sashayed his way out of the lab with everyone staring after him.

John looked at Molly, perplexed. “I guess.. I will go after him.” He sighed as he scratched the side of his head.

Molly nodded and before John stepped out of the lab, she called out to him, “John! Wait!” As he stopped to look at her, Molly bit her lips. “This… You better call Mycroft to inform him about it. Though, I think Sherlock wouldn’t be too happy about this. It’s just … I thought Mycroft needs to know.”

John nodded in agreement, “Yes, I know. I would do it.”

“Don’t tell… Mycroft it’s me who asked you to do this.” Molly said, almost like a plea. She wasn’t ready to meet him yet.

Surprised by the request, John couldn’t figure out what was the right response in this situation and they stared at each other for a moment before John could finally find it in him to nod. “I will.” Then he looked at her now-empty finger. “You look much happier now.”

And with that, he left.

Molly touched the bare skin of her finger, no longer carrying the weight of a love she could never return. “Yes, I am happier now.” She spoke to no one at all, her voice barely a whisper. And _if only I could find the courage to see him now._ She sighed and returned to work.

 

* * *

 

 

And as with any day that is graced with the presence of Sherlock Holmes, Molly found her day becoming increasingly difficult by the minute. With all the paperwork suddenly piled on her by another coworker, Molly don’t think it’s possible for her to leave early today.

The only thing she wanted now, is to rest. But it's not likely that she would be getting the rest she needs.

Molly huffed.

By the time she was done, it was already late into the night and she found that the time ticked by really quickly when immersed in work. Her thoughts went to Mycroft, was this how he dealt with the aftermath of the disastrous break up?

She rubbed her face, trying not to think about it now. She needs a rest. Desperately. Away from all the craziness in her life.

But obviously, as Murphy’s Law says, whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

Molly was walking back to her apartment when she saw the glow of the flames lighting up the night skies. Molly stopped walking, her heart rate accelerating as she realized that it was in the direction of her home.

“ _Please no._ ” She said in a small voice as she ran the distance leading up to her apartment. Her heart pounding in her chest as fear pulsated throughout her entire body.

“Let me through !” She screamed, struggling to shove through the crowd that had gathered. “I live here!” She struggled futilely against the restraints of the police officers as she helplessly watched the firefighters fight the blaze that seem to be unwilling to die out.

“Let me through!” She shrieked once more as she continued to fight the arms that are pulling her away from the fire. Molly knows this is irrational and not helpful to the situation at all. But watching her house burn up in flames, watching as the fire licked the place clean of all her possessions, all the mementos she kept from her relationship with Mycroft is much too agonizing for her to simply stand there and wait for the firefighters to put out the fire.

When she finally realize that no amount of fighting is helpful, Molly crumpled to the floor as her knees gave way. Molly  had a hand on the ground and her other hand clutching her heart as she wailed in devastation, her back hunched.

 _I have nothing now._   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sir?”
> 
> Mycroft frowned as he raised his head, looking at Anthea in displeasure. The various politicians present in the boardroom held the same look on their face at being interrupted so rudely during such an important meeting.
> 
> Anthea did not falter as she walked into the room, strides strong as she closed up the distance. She bent next to Mycroft, whispering in his ear, “Christmas”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got a little longer than expected and would most likely become longer as I write.  
> I thank everyone for their patience and comments ! They make me so happy.  
> I hope everyone enjoy this chapter as I continue to finish up the next ! Your comments give me so much motivation that I scare myself !

“Sir?”

Mycroft frowned as he raised his head, looking at Anthea in displeasure. The various politicians present in the boardroom held the same look on their face at being interrupted so rudely during such an important meeting.

Anthea did not falter as she walked into the room, strides strong as she closed up the distance. She bent next to Mycroft, whispering in his ear, “Christmas”. Mycroft tensed up at the mention of the code.

He turned slowly to look at Anthea, carefully keeping his face blank and making sure his voice sounded normal as he asked, “situation.” For the first time in a long time, he finally understood what it meant to have your blood freeze in fear and it certainly wasn’t something he want to feel again. He knew that Anthea would not have disrupt his meeting if the situation was one that she could handle, which means that the situation is more serious than he would like it.

Anthea looked at him then glanced at the several politicians who were impatiently tapping their fingers on the table as they waited for the meeting to continue. She shook her head, which was more than enough for Mycroft, whose heart was already threatening to leap out of his chest and run to Molly.

He turned to look at the people gathered in the board room and smiled falsely. “I am afraid that today’s meeting has to end here due to some unforeseen circumstances, my assistant would schedule another meeting next week if it’s convenient for all. I apologize for this but I have got something to see to.” He nodded to them politely and stood up with false bravado when his palms were already starting to perspire with all the panic he is feeling.

“What? You can’t just leave like that!” One of the politicians rose to his feet and shouted out to Mycroft, his nostrils flaring. Frustrated and done with all the idiocy of people, Mycroft simply turned and replied in an icy tone, “This meeting would long be adjourned if you could simply agree with me that the course of action that I have suggested is the best for everyone here. I simply don’t understand how you could climb to this position when you clearly don’t have the capacity to think. _Exactly how?”_ He looked at the man with a knowing looking , his gaze predatory. The man paled and sat down without another word.

The entire board room was quiet.

Pleased with the outcome, Mycroft smiled at the politicians present,“Now, if we are done here, I have somewhere else I’d rather be. I shall now take my leave, I look forward to our next meeting.”

Mycroft turned on his heels and left, his footsteps quick. As soon as he left the suffocating room, Mycroft turned to Anthea. “What happened?” He breathed.  

“There’s been a fire, Ms Hooper was not in her apartment when the fire broke out but the damages are extensive. Agent B who is keeping surveillance on her said that she was inconsolable and has attempted to run into the fire several times.” Anthea paused as she saw the colour drained out of Mycroft’s face at the news.

Mycroft thought he felt his heart stopped at the moment when he heard his molly, his brave Molly, attempted to run into the fire. He massaged his temple as he sat in the back of the car, feeling the weariness of the day and the worry for Molly consume him.

“How is she?”

Anthea continued tapping on her blackberry rapidly before replying, “Currently sitting by the pavement, quiet and dazed, probably in a state of shock. Agent B said that she look out of it, probably traumatized.”

Mycroft remained quiet as he took in the piece of news. He knew the apartment was important to Molly as it is one of the very few things her father had left for her. Not only that, it is very possible that Toby might still have been in the flat when the fire broke out and who knows if he got out of it safely. All the things that mattered to Molly were probably already burned to ashes. He couldn’t imagine how devastated Molly must be right now.

Mycroft cannot begin to imagine. This was not how he imagined his day to end. 

“ _Molly_.” He thought quietly to himself, his heart silently breaking as he think about how she must be feeling at this moment.

“Sir?”

Something in Anthea’s voice caused Mycroft to sit up in alarm, his mind thinking up of a thousand possible scenarios, none of them pleasant.

“It’s Dr. Watson.”

Mycroft felt a sinking feeling in the pits of his stomach as he reached out to receive the phone in trepidation. Calls from John never bode well, and this is the second one of the day. The phone was barely at his ear when he heard John croaked, “Sherlock… He’s been shot.”

“What?” Mycroft’s heart stopped at the news, his head spinning and he felt weak in the knees.

“He’s been shot, he’s in the surgery now, I don’t know. He, he is not in a good shape. I don’t know.” Mycroft felt his mouth go dry as he took in the news. He knew that John Watson is a fearless man who could stare unblinking with a gun pointed to his head. For John to panic and be flustered like this, Mycroft knew that the situation is dire.

Mycroft calmed himself down, trying to force the fear he had down. “John. Calm down, tell me. Where. Are. You. Now.” He asked, trying to sound as calm and assuring as possible.  

He heard the sound of heavy breathing on John’s side before the croaky reply came.

“The… hospital. St Bart’s.”

“Okay, good. Now stay there and keep me informed of Sherlock’s situation. I will be right over.” Mycroft ended the call collapsed back onto the seat, his heart racing and his mind in a mess.

“Sir? Are you okay?” A worried Anthea asked, her eyes now drawn to the man who is unlike his usual icy, unfeeling self.

Mycroft shook his head. “It’s a mess. Sherlock has been shot, Molly is in a predicament. Both at the same time. Both require me to be there. How am I supposed to choose?” Mycroft turned to look out of the window, “Both are family. How are you supposed to choose?” Mycroft said softly.

He looked at his hand. Both are akin to the flesh on his palm, how is he going to tear himself into two and be there for both of them at the same time?

_How do you choose?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if she doesn’t want me there?” His voice quivered as he voiced his inner fear. He looked up at Anthea, his face full of anguish. “It’s been a week since her engagement is off, if she still wants me, she would have already came back. I don’t want to make it more difficult for the both of us. I-”
> 
> “Sir,” Anthea interrupted, “Is this what you really want?” Her eyes piercing as she stared hard at him.
> 
> Mycroft grew silent.
> 
> “No.” His voice soft. “I want to be there for her even if she doesn’t want me there. Sherlock has John.” He paused as he lowered his gaze, “She only has me.”

“Turn the car.”

“Sir?” Anthea raised her head from the blackberry and looked at Mycroft through the front mirror, a mix of astonishment and disbelief. Mycroft’s distress and internal struggle was written in his body language, his voice and in his facial expressions. It was painfully obvious and it would really take an idiot to not see it. Anthea is not an idiot. Her eyes met the driver’s questioning eyes, she shook her head, signaling him to ignore the order and just continue driving.

“Turn the car,” Mycroft repeated, his voice filled with pain as he made his choice, “We are going to St. Bart’s”.

“But sir, why?” Anthea couldn’t comprehend his decision. He had been wanting to see Molly Hooper since the end of their relationship, he had been pining for her and yet, at this point, he is going to leave her in the lurch. She knows it pains him to reach this decision. But she don’t understand the motivation behind the decision. She probably could never.

Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his face.

“What if she doesn’t want me there?” His voice quivered as he voiced his inner fear. He looked up at Anthea, his face full of anguish. “It’s been a week since her engagement is off, if she still wants me, she would have already came back. I don’t want to make it more difficult for the both of us. I-”

“Sir,” Anthea interrupted, “Is this what you really want?” Her eyes piercing as she stared hard at him.

Mycroft grew silent.

“No.” His voice soft. “I want to be there for her even if she doesn’t want me there. Sherlock has John.” He paused as he lowered his gaze, “She only has me.”

Pleased with his honesty, Anthea gave him an assuring smile, “Then think. Clear your mind. There must be a solution where you could have the best of both worlds. Think! You are not the British Government for nothing. Think!” She pressed.

Mycroft stared at her as the words sank in. In the blink of an eye, his entire demeanor changed, the distress slowly leaving his body and his composure returned. It took no more than a second before he morphed back into his ice man persona, as if the tormented man before was merely an illusion. Anthea was secretly pleased and relieved when she saw Mycroft’s expression changed to one that she was more accustomed to.

Mycroft Holmes is a man who is simply not suited for moping.

Mycroft breathed in, shaking his head, “Caring is really not an advantage, is it not? Emotions cloud the mind and hinders any logical thinking or reasoning, does it not?”

Anthea did not reply. She knew he wasn’t looking for an answer anyway.

“But emotions… Once you touch them, know them, have them, it’s hard to lock them away again, like they don’t exist. Once you feel the warmth of love, you never want to stop feeling it. Emotions are like drugs, hinders the mind but brings out the best and worst of people.” Mycroft shut his eyes as he said that.

It was a short moment before he spoke again.

“Anthea, drop me off at Molly’s and arrange for another car to send us to the hospital. It’s only good for Molly to be checked at the hospital as well. Anthea, take this car to St Bart’s and update me whenever there’s news, no matter how small. Considering Dr Watson’s reactions and tone, it must be a rather grievous injury. Possibly the chest area or somewhere near there, might have or have not hit a major organ. Chances are, it did. Major blood loss, went into shock. Situation should have been very serious.” Mycroft swallowed as he continued his deduction, forcing himself to remain composed. Who he was saying this to, himself or Anthea, he had no idea, but he continued anyway.

“The surgery would not be a short one, meaning that I have ample time to make this detour. Unless.” He stops. _Unless Sherlock stops breathing._ Mycroft gulped again, blinking. That was a thought he refused to entertain.

“Sir?” Anthea enquired, concern creeping up her face as she saw the unnatural tension in his face.

Mycroft snapped back into reality and continued. “I will be there as soon as I can.” Anthea nodded, “I understand.”

“Anytime there’s-”

“I will call. I will text. I will make sure you know” Anthea interrupted him once again, her face serious.

Her expression reassured Mycroft that Sherlock would be in good hands and he nodded at her, “Thank you.”

Anthea smiled at him, “You are family. Anything for family.” She held his gaze for a moment before turning back to her phone, “You will reach Miss Hooper’s apartment in 10 minutes, Agent B just reported that the fire has been put out and it appears that Miss Hooper’s cat, Toby, could not be found. Miss Hooper is very distressed by the news but it might be good news that there is no sign of a dead cat in the apartment, which means that it is probably still alive. However,” Anthea paused, frowning, “It appears that it may be arson. Deliberately targeting Miss Hooper.”

Mycroft tensed. “Send-”

“I will send the surveillance tapes that covers the entire neighbourhood to Agent C’s team later. I am sure they would be able to uncover something. Your duty now, is to be Miss Hooper’s shoulder.” Anthea cut him off, knowing exactly what was expected of her and reassured him with her words.

Mycroft looked at her in approval. Anthea simply smirked.

“It’s rather surprising that someone is targeting Miss Hooper, isn’t it.”

Mycroft frowned, “And there aren’t many who would. I have a few people in mind.” He didn’t tell Anthea who he suspected. None of these people meant good news. And right now, he have something more important to worry about, he thought, as he looked out of the window and spotted Molly sitting by the pavement, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

His heart broke at the sight.

As soon as the car slowed to a stop, Mycroft immediately pushed open the door and hurried towards her. Anthea looked up from her phone, her eyes fixed on Mycroft’s back as she whispered, “Good luck.”

She withdrew her gaze from Mycroft and gestured the driver to drive.

_Some people are more than just family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I hope everyone enjoys the story. There were many thoughts I had regarding this chapter and this took longer than it was supposed to because I was stuck. Stuck on how it should be etc. It is supposed to be like just a chapter or two but somehow it is becoming longer and longer. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW. 
> 
> I don't know how people would react to this chapter, especially with the way I have written Mycroft. 
> 
> Mycroft is usually calm and composed, intimidating even. But I wrote him a little more flustered, a little more fragile. I dont know if people would like it. But to me, even the most composed person have a breaking point, their pressure point. Press on the right spot and watch them come undone. Molly Hooper is a person that mattered and she matters more than she knows. 
> 
> Anthea here is like the guiding voice. She is a very capable and highly intelligent woman. I love her as well so I am not going to just write her as his assistant. Not one who is just a coworker, but someone who is able to stand on the same level as him outside of work. Outside of work, they stand somewhere between friends and ... mentor towards each other. Yeap. So that's it! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your kind words and your comments. It makes me really happy !


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, I am real and I am right here for you.”
> 
> She slowly lifted her hand and tenderly laid her hand on the side of his face, feeling the warmth radiated from him. “You are real.” She swallowed, her tears trickling down. “You are real.” She repeated, her voice raised, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.
> 
> Mycroft tightened his arms around Molly, his chin resting on her head. He gently pat her back as she cried freely, her tears soaking up the front of his shirt, not that he cares anyway. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the moment. He thought he lost her forever, but now, his most precious treasure lies in his arms. He kissed the top of her head as he reassured her, “You are safe now and you will always be safe, I promise. I will always be your rock in troubled times. I will protect you for as long as I live and even in death, I promise.”

Mycroft felt like a cauldron brewing up a concoction of emotions - uneasiness, anxiety, anticipation, pain and a whole load of other emotions he didn’t know he had. There were simply too many to name.

He saw Molly rest her head on her knees, her arms cradling herself as if trying to protect herself from harm. She looked so vulnerable, so alone and all he wanted to do was to shelter her from all the pain.

Molly heard the tapping of shoes coming towards her direction but paid no attention to it, too drained by the ‘surprises’ life threw her way to even bother. It’s probably just another medic or police officer. Or whoever it is. It doesn’t matter at all.

Too exhausted to care, too tired to cry anymore. It feels as if she had cried all her tears in the span of an hour. Her thoughts were all over the place, Where is Toby? Is he fine? where should she go now? How long would it take for the claiming of insurance? Was there even fire insurance? How extensive is the damage? How did the fire start? Why?

There were so many questions, but there’s so little answers. Molly changed her position, burying her head between her knees and her arms hugging her knees, her misery clear as day.

“Molly?”

Mycroft approached her gingerly, taking care to not alarm her, but she did not respond to his call. “Molly?” He tried again, his hand gently laid on her shoulder.

Her head jerked up in surprise at the touch and her eyes widened in shock as she backed away in fear. Mycroft jerked his hand back in surprise when he felt her backed away, a little hurt by her action.

When Molly finally realized who it was, her mouth opened in shock, surprised. She felt moisture in her eyes as she blinked, not believing her eyes. “Are you real?” Her voice small, weak and yet, hopeful.

Hopeful.

Mycroft felt his heart swelled with hope when he realized that.

Molly didn’t move away from him because she didn’t want him. Molly wants him. She still wants him.

Mycroft would have smiled and laughed in joy with the realization, but his heart ached for her. Slowly, he squatted in front of her, pushing away the hair on her face and gently cupping her face in his hand, his forehead touching hers.

“Yes, I am real and I am right here for you.”

She slowly lifted her hand and tenderly laid her hand on the side of his face, feeling the warmth radiated from him. “You are real.” She swallowed, her tears trickling down. “You are real.” She repeated, her voice raised, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

Mycroft tightened his arms around Molly, his chin resting on her head. He gently pat her back as she cried freely, her tears soaking up the front of his shirt, not that he cares anyway. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the moment. He thought he lost her forever, but now, his most precious treasure lies in his arms. He kissed the top of her head as he reassured her, “You are safe now and you will always be safe, I promise. I will always be your rock in troubled times. I will protect you for as long as I live and even in death, I promise.”

Molly nodded her head and hugged him tighter. Then it occurred to her.

“Why are you here?” She asked as she raised her head to look at him. _Why? Why do you still bother when I broke your heart? Why do you still care?_

Mycroft kissed her forehead, “Because you matter. Always did.” He looked down at her, smiling gently, “And someone told me that if I love you, I will have to think about how I prioritize things and treat you right.” He kissed her again, this time on her lips. “And I know he was right when he said that I didn’t know how to love you, so now I am learning how to love. Will you give me another chance at love?” Mycroft asked as he looked into Molly’s eyes.

He was hopeful, yet anxious at the same time.

Molly simply held his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips as her answer. Her kiss was light and brief, shy and sweet. She blushed at her own actions, whispering, “I believe my answer is yes.”

Mycroft could feel his heart expanding with happiness and joy, but at the same time, his brain reminded him that Sherlock is still in the hospital and Molly should get a check at the hospital after a traumatic experience too.

He stood up, holding out his hand to her. Molly grabbed his hand and he pulled her up from the pavement. Mycroft bent slightly and without warning, he swept Molly off her feet, causing her to yelp and tightened her arms around his neck.

 “Mycroft !” She scolded lightly as she hid her face in his neck, feeling shy by his uncharacteristic display of affection.

Mycroft smiled a little at that, secretly delighted at her reaction, and tightened his hold on her as he adjusted his position. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. Aware that it was most likely from Anthea, he felt his heart skipped a beat, praying that it would not be anything bad.

“Molly, could you please help to retrieve my phone from my suit pocket?”

Molly could hear that his voice was strained and unnatural, a stark contrast from moments ago when he was still relaxed and happy. She knew that it meant something important, something serious, so she didn’t fight him.

She released her arms from his neck, carefully taking the phone out.

“Read it for me, please.”

He said as he walked towards the waiting car.

Molly obeyed, her face paled when she realized what happened and horror gripped her. Fear propagating through her body as she tightened her hold on the phone, her knuckles whitening with the force.

Though Mycroft couldn’t see her face, he knew something was horribly wrong when he felt Molly tensed up in his hold.

He gulped, feeling the fear grip his heart. He tried to speak as calmly as he could in his state of panic and worry, “What happened? What did it say?”

“Anthea said,” Molly inhaled deeply as she struggled for words, “Sherlock is in a critical situation.”

Mycroft felt as if someone hit him on the head, his head spinning. Molly looked up at him worriedly, “Mycroft? What does this mean?”

Mycroft looked at her, forcing a smile, “We are going to the hospital now.” His voice tight. He didn’t offer Molly any explanation and judging from his look, she knew better than to ask him.

When they had settled in the car with Molly still in his arms, Mycroft held Molly so tightly that she thought she would break, but she didn’t say anything. She only held him as tightly as she could, offering whatever little comfort she could.

He buried his face in her neck, just as she had did before.

Molly remained silent, just lending him her silent support.

“He will be fine.”

Mycroft spoke in a low voice, his voice a little husky. “He will be fine.” He repeated again, as if he was trying to convince himself.

“He will be fine.” Molly echoed his words as she cradled his head in her arms. “He is Sherlock Holmes. He would never,” She paused, not allowing the word to slip from her mouth. Mycroft simply nodded and she could feel his breathing slowly resumed to normal.

They spent the remaining trip in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this ! IT'S BECOMING SO LONG UGHHH.   
> I don't know how many more chapters this is going to take. It was supposed to be simple and straightforward but somehow, it expanded into a different monster. WHY. 
> 
> T_T 
> 
> As usual, I appreciate people telling me what they think of the story so far and I love every single comment people drop me. So ! ENJOY!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “See to her immediately,” Mycroft commanded the doctor, not looking at her as he carefully lowered Molly on the chair in the waiting area. “I will be back after I check on Sherlock’s situation. I will be quick.” Mycroft kissed her forehead briefly and was about to walk off when he felt something tugging at his suit.
> 
> He turned to see Molly gripping tightly to his jacket, her face determined and her voice strong. “You are not leaving me here.” Mycroft’s face paled and he looked slightly horrified at the thought that Molly thought he was leaving her behind. Molly could tell what he was thinking and she shook her head in a slow, controlled manner as she quietly explained.
> 
> “Sherlock is my friend too. I don’t know what exactly happened and I want to know how he is right now. I am worried for him.” I am worried for you too. She didn’t say it explicitly, but she knew he would understand the words left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments ! This is a short chapter unfortunately ! There are still questions left unanswered so this is obviously not the end ! I am still trying to wrap things up but I don't think I can see the end in the next 2 or 3 chapters. But I may be wrong as usual ! So thank you for sticking with me !

“Mr Holmes,” A female doctor called out immediately, walking quickly towards them when she spotted the black Jaguar pulling up at the hospital entrance.

“See to her immediately,” Mycroft commanded the doctor, not looking at her as he carefully lowered Molly on the chair in the waiting area. “I will be back after I check on Sherlock’s situation. I will be quick.” Mycroft kissed her forehead briefly and was about to walk off when he felt something tugging at his suit.

He turned to see Molly gripping tightly to his jacket, her face determined and her voice strong. “You are not leaving me here.” Mycroft’s face paled and he looked slightly horrified at the thought that Molly thought he was leaving her behind. Molly could tell what he was thinking and she shook her head in a slow, controlled manner as she quietly explained.

 “Sherlock is my friend too. I don’t know what exactly happened and I want to know how he is right now. I am worried for him.” _I am worried for you too_.  She didn’t say it explicitly, but she knew he would understand the words left unsaid.

Mycroft looked at her in silence, contemplating for a moment before extending his hand to her. “We will get you checked out after we check on Sherlock, okay?”

Molly smiled as she nodded her head and wrapped her hand tightly around his hand. Mycroft nodded to the doctor as they took their leave, walking briskly to the operating theatre where John and Anthea were waiting.

When Anthea spotted them in the corridor, she gave Mycroft a nod as her eyes landed on their hands, their fingers intertwining.

“How is he?” Mycroft asked and Anthea moved her gaze. Her expression was grim when she looked at Mycroft, hesitating a little before speaking. “The doctors are still operating on him.... but the situation doesn’t seem to be very promising.”

Mycroft’s jaw clenched at the update, he turned to John who was sitting on the floor at the far end, his face buried in his hands. “John, how did this happen?” Mycroft asked, his tone reprimanding. He felt Molly place her other hand on top of his hand and he turned to look at her, shaking her head gently. _It’s not his fault_. _Don’t be so harsh on him._ She mouthed to Mycroft. He didn’t respond but Molly could see his expression relaxed slightly.

John’s voice was all choked up as he answered Mycroft’s question. “We… were in Magnussen’s office, I was in the other room when I heard a gunshot coming from the room Sherlock was in and when I reached him, Sherlock was already on the floor and the assassin was gone. Nobody was in the office when we broke in.” John rubbed his face, “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.” John could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away as the guilt overwhelmed him.

He should not have listened to Sherlock and left him alone. If he had been there…

No one spoke again.

The wait felt like a slow, excruciating death for all of them. Not knowing is a truly horrendous feeling. Mycroft thought as his eyes continued to stare at the brightly-lit ‘OPERATING’ sign.

He felt Molly’s head lean on his shoulder, her hand tightening around his, “He’s Sherlock.” She whispered. _He will not die._ Mycroft rested his head against hers, eyes shut, grateful for her support right now.

It was a long wait but when the sign finally dimmed and the doors opened, everyone bolted to their feet. The doctor looked at everyone and spoke in a weary tone, “He flatlined,” He spoke slowly and everyone stiffened at the news, “But, he came back to life after a short while, his will to live was very strong. I am astonished.” Heaves of relief could be heard and everyone relaxed while the doctor was frowning, thinking over something. “It’s quite a miracle actually. He responded so strongly to the name ‘John’ when I called out to another nurse that he came back to life.” The doctor mumbled softly under his breath but it didn’t escape Mycroft or John, especially John.

Mycroft thought he saw John cry and laugh a little as he rubbed his eyes, “That madman.” John said under his breath, relieved. Mycroft was relieved as well, he looked at Molly who looked at him with that ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. She was beaming with so much pride that he couldn’t help but lower his head and kiss her passionately.

Mycroft Holmes was a private man, not one for public display of affections, but right at this moment when he had recovered his most precious treasure and his brother was fine, he could care less.

Molly was taken aback as well, but she responded immediately, as eager as he was, her arms wrapping around his neck, giggling a little as she kissed him.

Everyone was so wrapped up in the moment that they did not see a figure disappear around the corner.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft’s fingers stopped as he was flipping to the next page of the report.
> 
> “It’s a warning.” His voice tight.
> 
> “Warning?” John looked to Mycroft, his face a mix of confusion and surprise, “What for?” John didn’t understand why would anyone target Molly who is just a simple pathologist at St. Bart’s.
> 
> Mycroft gave John a tight-lipped smile.
> 
> “The correct question is, for who?”

“Do you think it’s a coincidence that Sherlock was shot while Molly’s place was on fire?” John asked Mycroft as he gently held Sherlock’s hand to his lips.

Mycroft shifted carefully as he adjusted his position, taking great care not to rouse the sleeping Molly in his arms. “The universe is rarely so lazy.” He replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Sir,” Anthea walked in with a briefcase in her hand. “The team had sent some information over and I think you should see it now.” She held a grim look as she passed the briefcase to Mycroft.

He took the documents out, flipping through the reports, as Anthea switched on the laptop. She clicked on a video file and was scanning through the surveillance video for any abnormalities as she reported the team’s findings.

 “The reports stated that it was arson and it happened from within the building. From the way the windows cracked, I would say that an accelerant such as gasoline was used. The culprit had broken into the flat, doused gasoline over every possible surface.” Anthea frowned harder, “Whoever did this really wants to cause as much damage as possible. But I don’t get it. What are they hoping to get out of it?”

Mycroft’s fingers stopped as he was flipping to the next page of the report.

“It’s a warning.” His voice tight.

“Warning?” John looked to Mycroft, his face a mix of confusion and surprise, “What for?” John didn’t understand why would anyone target Molly who is just a simple pathologist at St. Bart’s.

Mycroft gave John a tight-lipped smile.

“The correct question is, for who?” He raised his eyebrows at John, who gave that a thought before going, _oh._ His mouth opened in realization and comprehension. “Whoever did that is warning you. And they will not stop until they get to you, is that right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mycroft admitted in a cool voice, “It is a mistake on my part to not have protected Molly better and to have shown the enemies a chink in my armour.” Mycroft’s eyes sharpened, almost predatory, as he continued with an icy smile on his lips, “However, they would soon realize that the mistake is theirs.” Mycroft promised.

“I don’t understand.” John was still baffled. “Setting Molly’s place on fire is already enough for you to know that it’s a warning. If the culprit’s the same person, why would they shoot Sherlock? Isn’t it more trouble and a higher risk of being discovered?” He questioned.

Mycroft ignored the question, instead, he changed the topic, asking John, “You said both of you broke into Magnussen’s office.”

A little taken aback by the sudden change of topic, John didn’t reply for a moment. He scratched the corner of his eye and nodded his head, explaining, “Yes, it’s for a case.”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, waiting for John to continue his explanation.

“Lady Smallwood had requested for the extraction of a certain document that Magnussen has in possession that would be detrimental to her husband if he released it. We met with Magnussen in the afternoon for a negotiation and obviously, it didn’t go well so we decided to break in to extract the document.”

Mycroft frowned, “How did you break in?”

“A corrupted card and some hacking, bypassing the security system and things like that. That madman.” John explained, turning back to look at Sherlock, a fond look on his face. He gently kissed Sherlock’s hand as he was talking.

Mycroft nodded as he listened to the explanation, “And then?” He enquired.

“There wasn’t anyone in the office at all, which was something Sherlock had already expected, so he suggested that we split up and look in Magnussen’s office separately. I was searching around his PA’s desk when I heard a gunshot from the room above and when I rush up, Sherlock was already lying in a pool of blood and the assassin was gone.”

Mycroft pondered in silence as he took in all the information.

Something. There must be something.

“Sir?” Anthea didn’t look up from the laptop as she called for Mycroft, her fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard. “Look at this file. There’s something amiss about this.”

Mycroft immediately became alert and grabbed the laptop from Anthea. He hit the ‘play’ button, watching intently as the video played out. After a short while, he finally broke the silence. “Find out the identities of these two.” He pointed out to a lady and a man talking in front of the building. Anthea took note and immediately set to work on her phone.

He took a look at the timestamp, 8.36pm. That’s 45 minutes before Molly arrived at the scene. “Anthea, how’s the traffic condition tonight? Is it possible to reach in about 40 minutes from Molly’s place to Magnussen’s office?”

Anthea tapped rapidly on her phone, “Yes, it’s possible to reach in 25 to 30 minutes.” She looked up, “Do you have a suspect already?”

Mycroft didn’t exactly reply, “Tell me when you have the identities of the two people.”

Anthea stared at him for a moment before nodding her head, “I am going back to the office, I will come back when I have new information.” Mycroft nodded and gave her a small wave of the hand.

John took his eyes off Sherlock, turning to stare at Mycroft who was looking unexpectedly domestic, helping to sweep the hair off Molly’s face. He was smiling, genuinely for once. It was a smile that was filled with unspoken love and bliss and Mycroft looked … relaxed.

“I never thought you could look like that.” John remarked, a small smile on his lips.

Mycroft chuckled a little, “I didn’t think I could either. Never thought this day would arrive actually.” He said as he pulled her closer into his embrace. Though Molly was asleep, she instinctively reached out to hold him as well, tightening her arms around his waist, curling up in his warmth. Her lips curled into a smile even in her sleep.

John looked at Molly’s sleeping face before speaking in a quiet voice, “You know, she looked happier than she did in those months before. Even with tonight’s misfortunes, she is so strangely at ease, no sign of trauma or distress. Your effect on her is astounding.”

Mycroft smiled, kissing the top of Molly’s head and resting his chin on her head, giving a satisfied sigh. “She is definitely upset at having lost everything, especially the house and Toby. But Molly is a brave woman. She can go through any obstacles life throws her way because she is so strong and now, no matter what happens, I will always be there to support her. John, you said that my effect on her is astounding, but she is the one who is amazing. She,” Mycroft stopped as he contemplated how to put his feelings into words. He pondered for a moment, “She changed me.” His voice soft. He was going to continue when a voice interrupted him.

“Sentiments doesn’t seem like your thing, _brother dear_.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comments ! I hope everyone enjoys everything so far.  
> I have a love-hate relationship with writing so having comments fuel the lovable part of writing !  
> I don't know if people are fine with how I have written this and I welcome discussions anytime or constructive criticism !  
> HEE.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you even here?” Sherlock asked his brother with a frown and sleepy eyes. He certainly didn’t need to stay since John’s around and he is completely fine. Well, as fine as he could be with a gunshot wound.
> 
> Mycroft lifted his head from the reports, bemused.
> 
> “I am your brother. Though I cannot understand your” Mycroft paused to think “stupidity” but swiftly rephrased his thought and continued on in that diplomatic voice of his, “need to involve yourself in danger. When I heard you were shot, I was indeed worried and concerned. You may not believe it, but your loss would break my heart.”
> 
> Sherlock choked and gagged when he heard Mycroft’s words, “What the hell?!” He coughed out as John frantically helped him up and pat him on the back. “What am I supposed to say to that?” Sherlock asked, totally shocked awake by Mycroft’s words.
> 
> Mycroft sighed dramatically again. “Brother mine, you really are a drama queen.”

Mycroft smirked, “Says the one who got himself a goldfish.” His eyes flickering from Sherlock’s face to John who was confused, “goldfish? What has this got to do with goldfish? You didn’t get a goldfish, did you Sherlock?” John stared at Sherlock, baffled but also amused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes with whatever strength he had and scoffed, “You are the one who talked about how caring is a disadvantage blahblahblah and look at how much you care for Molly, _preacher_.” His speech a little slurred and voice laced with sleep.

Mycroft sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes in exasperation with the same grace Sherlock has, “Say whatever you want, brother mine. I will let it slide, pretending that I can't hear you, since you are injured right now.”

Sherlock gritted his teeth at his brother but said no more while John chuckled, still amused by the childish bickering of the two Holmes brother. If he had told anyone that this was how the two Holmes behave in private, he is sure no one would ever believe him.

It was silent for a few moments with both brothers not speaking to each other, Mycroft reading through all the reports with a glum face.

Finally, Sherlock spoke.

“Why are you even here?” Sherlock asked his brother with a frown and sleepy eyes. He certainly didn’t need to stay since John’s around and he is completely fine. Well, as fine as he could be with a gunshot wound.

Mycroft lifted his head from the reports, bemused.

“I am your brother. Though I cannot understand your” Mycroft paused to think “ _stupidity”_ but swiftly rephrased his thought and continued on in that diplomatic voice of his, “need to involve yourself in danger. When I heard you were shot, I was indeed worried and concerned. You may not believe it, but your loss would break my heart.”

Sherlock choked and gagged when he heard Mycroft’s words, “What the hell?!” He coughed out as John frantically helped him up and pat him on the back. “What am I supposed to say to that?” Sherlock asked, totally shocked awake by Mycroft’s words.

Mycroft sighed dramatically again. “Brother mine, you really are a drama queen.”

John stifled a laughter.

Sherlock glared at John then looked at Mycroft briefly before allowing his gaze to fall upon the sleeping Molly who surprisingly, slept through the entire ruckus.

“She really did changed you, didn’t she?” He asked in quiet wonderment. If it was in the past, Mycroft would never, ever, voice out what he is really feeling even if he did care.

He would use sarcasm and snarky comments to convey how he really felt _or cover up what he really felt_.

Sherlock supposed that he was probably influenced by Mycroft to be unable to truthfully say what he meant and could only convey his feelings through insults. But now, Mycroft really seemed lesser of an Ice Man and more of a human who could speak of pain and worry.

It’s unbelievable just how much the quiet Molly Hooper can affect his brother just like how John brought out the heart in him. He smiled a little at that thought, turning his head to look at John who looked like an absolute mess.

His hair was sticking out in all directions instead of being neatly combed as he usually was from all the hair-pulling he did while awaiting outside the surgery theatre. His eyes were bloodshot and exhaustion was clearly written in his face. He could even see the dried tears streak on John’s face.

Sherlock slowly lifted his arm, wincing, and gently caressed John’s cheek.

“I am sorry.” _I am sorry you had to go through this again_.

John placed his hand on top of Sherlock’s, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Especially after knowing how you literally came back to life for me.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows at that, unsure what John meant. John explained to Sherlock.

 “The doctor said that you flatlined.” His tone was a little unnatural at that, but his expression still relaxed, “But when you heard the name ‘John’, your heart resumed beating. You madman, you…” Tears were now dripping from John’s eyes as he clutched tightly onto Sherlock’s hand. “You don’t know how I felt when I heard that. You… I was so relieved, so frightened, so messed up. I don’t think I can go through that again. No.” John, all choked up with emotions, had to stop talking and instead focus on breathing.

It took him awhile to stop hyperventilating and resume normal breathing.

John stared at Sherlock, his hand still clutching onto Sherlock’s hand. “Wherever you go, I will follow. No matter what happens, no matter how dangerous things would be in the future, I don’t care, because I am going to stick to you and never leave you alone in such a situation anymore. I cannot go through this again. The next time this happens, I swear I would die. So Sherlock, don’t put me into this kind of situation anymore. Please.”

John’s words started out strong and charged with his emotions but as he spoke, his tone turned into something more like a plea, softening until only Sherlock could hear him.

Sherlock was silent for a moment before he nodded, his hand clutching John’s.

He don’t think he could survive without John either.

“Cough.” Mycroft coughed out loudly as he interrupt the moment. Sherlock immediately snapped out of his loveydovey state to glare at his brother who is currently being a pain in the ass by being in the same room and spoiling the entire atmosphere.

“What?” Sherlock asked, his tone irritated. Sherlock is still Sherlock even when he is injured or half-dead.

“I just thought you should know that there are other people around so you would … be at least informed that if there are words you want to say that others would not want to hear, you should not say it now.” Mycroft commented mockingly.

Sherlock huffed, “Piss off.”

Mycroft simply smiled. “Of course , it is rather obvious that I have overstayed my welcome and that you two ….” He raised his eyebrows, “would want some private moments.”

He packed up all his documents before gingerly lifting Molly from the couch and making his way out.

Sherlock didn’t speak a word or mocked Mycroft when he saw the tender look on Mycroft’s face. It was a face that he had never seen, a face that is only reserved for Molly Hooper. Sherlock smirked at the sight.

It was gratifying to know that Mycroft, the Ice Man, who never believed in love and thinks that caring is a weakness, would one day fall head over heels for somebody.

But Sherlock was grateful as well.

Being too intelligent is a lonely thing.

He watched as Mycroft clumsily tried to open the door while trying hard not to wake Molly. In the end, he had to enlist John’s help before he could get the door open.

“She is good for you.”

Sherlock spoke in a low voice as Mycroft was leaving. He saw Mycroft stopped for a moment and then he was gone.

But Sherlock knew he heard and he agreed.

Afterall, anyone could see that Molly Hooper is the John to Mycroft like how John is to Sherlock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to get this up before I knock off ! Anyway, updates may be slower in future since my schedule is going to change to a 6-days work week and my working hours are long. [Up till 8.30pm while now I leave work at 5.30pm]
> 
> Keep your comments coming in and I will do my best to keep up with the updates !


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft settled in his chair, his eyes on the two dossiers in front of him – Mary Elizabeth Morstan and Alexander Ronald Augustus. Both names doesn’t ring a bell or seem suspicious at all. Mycroft furrowed his brows. If the culprit is neither of this two, then who else could it be? If the culprit is one of them, or both of them, then who are they? What do they want?
> 
> If it’s a warning for Mycroft, then there must surely be a motive other than that. What exactly are they coveting?

“ _The suspects have been identified, you will find the complete dossiers already on your desk. -A_ ”

Mycroft took a look at the message before keeping his phone away, his gaze soft on Molly’s face as she slept. He couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from curling up whenever his eyes are set on her. It’s like being near her makes him happy instantaneously, no matter how horrible his day went.

He wished he could stay in bed with her but he had work to do. He sighed inaudibly as he climbed off the warm bed and head towards his study. He was feeling exhausted but the thought of someone or some people out there who had their eyes laid on his family kept him going.

The longer it dragged, the more dangerous it would be.

Mycroft settled in his chair, his eyes on the two dossiers in front of him – Mary Elizabeth Morstan and Alexander Ronald Augustus. Both names doesn’t ring a bell or seem suspicious at all. Mycroft furrowed his brows. If the culprit is neither of this two, then who else could it be? If the culprit is one of them, _or both of them_ , then who are they? What do they want?

If it’s a warning for Mycroft, then there must surely be a motive other than that. What exactly are they coveting?

He started with Alexander Ronald Augustus ( _Alexander Ronald Graves Augustu_ s) which seemed normal. _Or he is missing something_. He cannot be as innocent as he seems. He doesn’t even live anywhere close to Molly’s place, why would he appear somewhere that’s nowhere near his place of employment or residence at this timing? It’s definitely out of the way for him as well. His place of residence…. Mycroft looked at it, a feel of dread settling in the pits of his stomach. It’s just right across 221B Baker Street. The last time anyone had been in the apartment across 221B Baker Street was an assassin.  

Mycroft rubbed a hand over his face as he closed the file since it’s only function now is to make him frustrated. He hopes he can find something more substantial in the surveillance tapes.

Mycroft switched on his computer and when it loaded, he opened the video file that he saw earlier on. He replayed the video a couple of times, pausing on the fifth time when both suspects appeared.

_Alexander R. Augustus. Height about 185cm, muscular build, his eyes seemed to scanning the surroundings surreptitiously. Eyes stopped for a moment when he spotted the camera, then turned back to the woman and then both of them moved out of the camera’s view. Stance showed that he is wary of his surroundings, ready to bolt at any sign of possible danger, used to be in military or related, callus in between the webbed part of the skin between thumb and forefinger, probably a trained sniper. Definitely not innocent._

Mycroft made a mental note as he carried on. The information in the dossier definitely doesn’t match up. There were no records of this man being in the military or anything of the sort, he is very sharp and observant. There was no way he could have been what his dossier said or implied.  

He doesn’t have any living family, all his family members seemed to have migrated or died in the past 2 years. His list of acquaintances is painfully lacking and even that, this Miss Mary Morstan is not in his list of acquaintances, but they look to be very close to each other. They definitely know each other, and for a long time.

Mycroft frowned. He reached out for the other dossier and flipped through it. Mary Elizabeth Morstan. He looked at her address which was the same apartment building as Molly’s and on the same level, adjacent to hers. Rental date was, 20 June 2012, just a few days after Sherlock’s fake death… Mycroft scanned through her records, realizing that the information on her was scarce and could only be traced back to 5 years ago.

Fishy.

Very fishy.

“ _Mary Elizabeth Morstan. All information on every single individual with this name. –MH_ ” Mycroft texted Anthea.

He received a reply almost instantaneously. “ _Yes Sir. -A_ ”  

Mycroft took a quick look at the time (2.39am) and put the phone away as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He leaned back in his chair as he shut his eyes, tired from all the craziness of the day.

Like Sherlock, he doesn’t require much sleep but the day has been much of an “adventure”. His mind was getting increasingly clogged up with all the details and he was unable to clear his mind to focus on what he needed to do.

He sighed. He knew he needed to rest and it would do him good, his mind would be able to function much better. But the idea that someone out there is plotting against his family while he is resting just doesn’t sit well with him.

“Mycroft?”

His eyes flew open as he heard the drowsy voice, he turned his head to the door where Molly was rubbing her eyes, her hair all messy from sleeping. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight, feeling some of the tension leave his body.

He extended his hand towards her and Molly trudged towards him, still groggy. She placed a hand in his while she yawned. “Why aren’t you in bed?” She asked, then her eyes flickered to the dossiers in front of Mycroft, her turn to frown.

“That’s my neighbor, why do you have her file with you?” She gestured with a slight lift of her head and then her eyes fell on the dossier next to it. “That guy’s familiar…” She frowned, tilting her head in concentration as she tried to recall where she had ever met him.

“Was it in the hospital?”

Mycroft’s voice immediately turned sharp as he questioned, “He was at the hospital?”

Molly was taken aback at the sudden change of tone but nodded anyway. “I think I saw him a few times recently in the corridor outside my office in the past months. It was weird but I didn’t think much of it. Some people may find the morgue a relaxing place. I mean, I do so….” Molly trailed off, face a little red as she tried to explain. After all, it IS weird for normal people to feel that a morgue is a relaxing place, rather than a creepy place to be in.

Mycroft steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he thought about the words Molly said. After a while, he looked up at her, eyes boring into her.

“If you see him again, text or call me immediately.” His face was suddenly serious and tense, making Molly feel a little frightened with the sudden command.

“Okay… Is there a reason why?” Molly asked, her voice soft and careful. Mycroft looked at her, his fingers softly caressing her hand as he spoke, “I fear.” He stopped. “Something’s sinister is brewing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped I made sense ! Came down with flu and sore throat, not to mention that my wound is a little inflamed.   
> So the brain might not be working fine. Feel free to point out any part that doesn't make sense !   
> With this, I hope this chapter is enjoyable ????
> 
> I got stuck while writing this. It was so painful. HAHAHAH


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly frowned, her fingers wrapping around Mycroft’s hand tightly.
> 
> “Does it have to do with me?” She asked, her voice worried and her face concerned. Mycroft didn’t reply immediately. He hesitated a little before raising his head to look at her with the same look on his face. “Yes.” His answer was short and it did not help alleviate Molly’s fear. If it did anything, it only fuelled her anxiety and worry.

Molly frowned, her fingers wrapping around Mycroft’s hand tightly.

“Does it have to do with me?” She asked, her voice worried and her face concerned. Mycroft didn’t reply immediately. He hesitated a little before raising his head to look at her with the same look on his face. “Yes.” His answer was short and it did not help alleviate Molly’s fear. If it did anything, it only fuelled her anxiety and worry.

“But why? I am hardly important. I don’t have anything they need! Yes, I helped with Sherlock’s fake suicide but does it even matter anymore? They wouldn’t know either, would they? Then why? Why would they even want to target a plain pathologist !” Molly asked in a quiet, panicked voice, speaking faster and faster, louder and louder.

She was gesturing wildly when Mycroft stood up to pull her into his embrace, pressing her head against his chest and his head on hers, his face buried in her hair. She heard him whisper, “I am sorry” in a pained voice, as he tried to calm her down. She did, eventually, feel her heart beat slowing down.

She felt Mycroft gently patting her back, soothing her, his lips gently pressed to her crown and quiet words of assurance were whispered. How could she forget that no matter what the situation, Mycroft would be there to guide her through it?   

Molly knew she had inadvertently hurt Mycroft with her words, the underlying accusations in her questions. She knew from the start of the relationship that his work was dangerous and would endanger her but she never thought of what it actually meant for her. Now she knows just what exactly that meant.

She clutched the front of his shirt tightly with both hands, her face still buried in his chest as she whispered, “Sorry.” _Sorry for the words I spoke in my fear, in my panic, in my distrust._

Molly felt Mycroft giving her a small nod. “My work is dangerous, you have always known. To get to me, people would do anything and everything to get leverage over me. By extension, family and friends, anything really, is just a small part of that. My mistake is not protecting you well enough, to keep you away from their eyes.” He sighed, “Sherlock too. Because of both myself and his work, both John and you are implicated really. Caring is not an advantage. I still believe in that.”

Mycroft wanted to continue talking but Molly placed her finger on his lips, shaking her head. “Caring is not a weakness. It’s a strength. People find strength to carry on because of the care and concern others shower on them. Yes, I may have been implicated by either or both of you and I am frightened by the fact that there will now be people who are after me. But because I know you care about me as much as I do about you, I don’t mind.” Molly spoke, her expression soft and tender, her voice loving and strong with determination. Mycroft found himself unable to take his eyes off her and with no words to say. People may not understand why a man like Mycroft is enamoured with the mousy pathologist, but that is because, they could never see how Molly completes him. And they never did see the strength she has in her.

Mycroft finally smiled, a genuine smile, as he brought his hand up to hold her hand. “Thank you.” He said. _Thank you for having the courage to continue standing beside me, thank you for putting your trust in me._

Mycroft never thought that one day, there would be someone who would place their trust in him. After all, he is the Iceman, cold and unfeeling, ruthless and cunning, country before family, someone who can’t be trusted.

But there in front of him stands Molly, larger than life and so much more than what she portrays. There she stands, with love in her eyes and fearless she is, even in fear.

Molly smiled as she heard his words, giving him a small shake of the head. She pulled at his hand, “It’s late, you should sleep.” She led him away from the desk even when his gaze lingered on the laptop and the dossiers. He sighed as he gave in. “Just two hours.”

There’s still a lot to do and there’s so much at stake. But he knew he needed the rest.  

Molly nodded, compromising. A little rest is better than none at all. In fact, she knew that if she had not interrupted him, he would have continued on. She felt Mycroft’s hand tightened around hers and when she looked up at him, his eyes were filled with his unspoken love, soft and as if he was looking at a priceless treasure.

He suddenly leaned down to give her a brief kiss on her lips, making her jump a little at the unexpected kiss. She heard him chuckle as her face flushed bright red. She gave him a small punch on his arm and a glare that obviously didn’t do much to intimidate him. He laughed a little. “You are truly precious.” He mumbled softly under his breath but Molly heard it all. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him downwards as she tiptoed, leaning forward. She wanted to make it romantic and let him know that he is precious to her as well.

But things don’t always go your way.

It happened really fast and instead of kissing him on his lips, in her hurry, she ended up bumping both their noses together. Mycroft brought a hand to his nose at the impact and Molly to hers. She gave a light gasp and Mycroft couldn’t hold his laughter in.

Molly don’t think her face can get any redder.

Mycroft simply laughed as he brought his face close to hers, cupping her face in his hand and pressing his lips against her. There are many thing words can’t convey and many things Mycroft have yet to tell her, but he hoped, in his kiss, Molly knows just exactly what he wanted her to know.

Molly returned his kiss with a passion that is met with his, her hand gently placed on the nape of his neck, her other hand, her fingers tightly entwined in his. She gave a satisfied sigh as their lips parted and met. When their lips finally separated, when he looked into her eyes, he don’t think he has ever seen someone look at him with that much emotions, with that much intensity.

He coughed a little, clearing his throat. “I believe, we should be in bed right now.”

Molly giggled as she nodded her head, allowing him to lead the way.

It was really pure sleeping, but with a lot of cuddling. But Molly knows that no one would ever believe that Mycroft Holmes is a cuddler. After changing into pajamas, when they both settled under the duvet, Mycroft pulled Molly into his embrace, his front to her back, his arms tightly wound around her waist.

He kissed her on her cheek as he whispered, “Good night, Molly.”

“Sweet dreams, Mycroft.” She replied softly, her voice sweet. “Sweet dreams.” Mycroft responded, smiling as he shut his eyes.

It wasn’t very long after when two sets of light snoring was heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff to get us through the weekend ! Wanted to write yesterday but preparation for the graduation ceremony and the graduation ceremony kept me away from writing ! Hopefully this little light fluff is good enough. I couldn't stop myself from smiling as I wrote. 
> 
> It's a little creepy, I admit. Cough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Snipers, staying close-by to 221B and Molly, most likely to keep a watch on them, returned their apartments on the same day, both shooting and arson happened at the same time, why? If they had been watching them for 2 years, why did they only strike now? Why? What changed?” Mycroft sifted through all the information, asking himself questions after questions, then he realized. Oh.
> 
> The only change.

When day broke and Molly roused from sleep, she certainly didn’t expect the arms around her waist. She thought that Mycroft would have woken up long ago to go through the dossiers again and get back to work. The warmth of his embrace was certainly a surprise. She gingerly and slowly readjusted her position so that now she was facing Mycroft.

Mycroft has always been attractive in her eyes and he is still attractive even with bed hair. She couldn’t help but giggled as she looked at his face. It’s only when he’s asleep that she was able to see him in such a relaxed state, so angelic and peaceful. Of course, people, especially Sherlock, wouldn’t believe that Mycroft Holmes would ever look that way. He was after all, anything but angelic. It would have been more believable if she said that he held a scheming look even in sleep.

Molly couldn’t help but sigh a little when she thought of that. Mycroft is not a bad person, it’s just that his work would never allow him to be soft-hearted or merciful. Being merciful is hardly beneficial for him.

She gently swept his hair away from his face when suddenly he spoke, “How long are you going to keep staring at me?” Molly jumped a little and Mycroft’s eyes slowly flickered open. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Molly started but Mycroft shook his head, “I was already awake.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, “And you didn’t get out of bed to go back to work?” She looked to the clock, “It’s already 8am, you know?”

Mycroft smirked. “I know, but your warmth is too enticing to get out of bed.” He said as he nuzzled at her neck, making her squirm at the ticklish sensation. “Well, I would need to get ready for work and you have to get going soon, don’t you?”

Mycroft gave a soft sigh as he mumbled, “Good things end so soon.”

Molly giggled and gave him a light kiss on his cheek as she slowly removed his hands from her waist. “Dead people’s calling.” She quickly jumped out of bed and headed to the shower before Mycroft could react.

He sighed again as he climbed out of bed, changing out of his pajamas before heading to his study. Anthea had already emailed him the new information he requested for and there’s no time to lose.

There weren’t a lot of Mary Elizabeth Morstan on the list other than the ‘Mary Elizabeth Morstan’ he was checking up on. “Teacher 20, Retiree 83, Baker 41,” Mycroft slowly went through the list until something caught his eye, “Mary Elizabeth Morstan … stillborn, born and deceased.. October 1972,” Mycroft knew that it was what he was looking for immediately. “Very smart indeed… Assuming the identity of someone who doesn’t exist, family who knew of their existence already dead and gone.” He spoke quietly to himself, smiling wryly. That would explain why there wasn’t any record of her until 5 years ago.

There’s no way someone dead would leave a record at all.

“Mycroft?” Molly called out to him and he looked up at her. “I am going to Bart’s now, do you want to meet for lunch?” She asked, “If you are not busy, of course.” She added quickly before Mycroft had a chance to reply. He chuckled as he held her hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand gently. “You didn’t have to ask for my answer,” He paused a little, the corner of his lips tugging upwards as he stared at her intensely, “my answer will always be yes.”

Molly couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face when she heard his words. Mycroft started to be a little more expressive after their reconciliation but Molly didn’t dare to hope or guess how long this change would last. Or if it would even last at all. It is a little fear she have at the back of her mind but she didn’t want to think about it now. She wants to relish it while it lasted.

“I really got to go.” Molly said, a little apologetic at having to go so soon. Mycroft nodded his head in understanding, releasing his grip unwillingly. “A car will be waiting outside. I will fetch you when it’s lunch.”

Molly nodded as she moved towards the door. She stopped abruptly before turning around swiftly and kissed him briefly on the lips. “The surprise attack is successful this time.” She said joyfully with a mischievous smile on her face. She gave a small wave of her hand as she bolted out of the room.

Mycroft just looked on in amusement as she left, chuckling a little as he raised his hand to his lips. He shook his head. Molly is indeed a gem. He would very much like to go to work with her but his work is here. Everything he would need was all in his study. Not that it is impossible to relocate his entire work to her lab but she wouldn’t allow it.

Mycroft forced himself to focus on the dossiers in front of him. Mary Morstan was indeed suspicious. Both of them are not listed on each other’s list of acquaintances but they clearly know each other. She is currently a nurse but her stance, everything about her suggest otherwise. She is not just a nurse. The two of them clearly are acquainted, Alexander was probably a sniper and there were calluses on the webbed skin between her thumb and forefinger as well, meaning there’s a very high chance that she was formerly a sniper or still is one.

No matter what, having two former/current snipers behaving suspiciously and within such close distance to his family doesn’t bode well at all. He looked at the videos again and realized that Mary Morstan had already returned the apartment earlier in the day, moving out with surprisingly little belongings.

It’s like, she has always been ready to pack and go, not intending to stay in a place for long. Mycroft frowned, then what changed? What made her stay for 2 years if she has always been prepared to move?

Mycroft looked over at Alexander Augustus’ dossier and realized that he had also just returned the apartment as well. He took a look at the video again, spotting them talking briefly before realizing the camera, moving away from the view of the camera. Only emerging 5 minutes later, Mary Morstan flagged a cab, moved in the direction of Magnusson’s office while Alexander Augustus looked around inconspicuously before entering Molly’s apartment building.

Mycroft paused the video as he looked closely at Alexander. His bag looked huge and bulky enough to contain a container of kerosene, his fingers were wrapped around something but Mycroft could not tell what it was from the camera.

Then he saw Alexander slipped into the building after someone entered the building, his eyes scrutinizing the surroundings before disappearing inside.  

With this, Mycroft was already convinced that Mary Morstan and this Alexander Augustus were involved in the arson and very likely the shooting of Sherlock as well. Now, what is their motive? Mycroft steepled his fingers under his chin as he brooded over it, retreating into his mind palace.

“Snipers, staying close-by to 221B and Molly, most likely to keep a watch on them, returned their apartments on the same day, both shooting and arson happened at the same time, why? If they had been watching them for 2 years, why did they only strike now? Why? What changed?” Mycroft sifted through all the information, asking himself questions after questions, then he realized. _Oh._

_The only change._

“Sherlock.”

Mycroft’s eyes lit up with realization and he felt his blood run cold with fear.

He immediately flipped through the dossier and he saw the one fact that he didn’t notice before. Mary Morstan was a nurse working at John’s clinic, Alexander Augustus regularly kept an eye on Molly at the hospital.

They were waiting.

They were wondering if Sherlock really died.

They are Moriarty’s people. The snipers.  

And he fear that he might have realised this too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, going to post this up before I sleep. It's 3.30am and I fear that I may have made some mistakes.  
> Constructive criticisms are always welcomed and lovely comments are even better ! I think another 2 - 3 chapters would bring this part of the series to an end ! The end is near and I hope that it's not too abrupt ! 
> 
> Keep the comments coming in, they make me happy !


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How ~ very slow, Mr Holmes.” An unfamiliar voice snickered on the other side of the phone. Mycroft froze for a second but immediately recomposed himself, speaking in an icy tone. “Who are you?”
> 
> “Oh ~ I thought you would have already known my identity. Took you a while, a looooooooong while indeed.” The voice sneered, venom in the voice. “Slipping aren’t you? Emotions are such FUNNY things.” The person’s tone took a different turn almost instantly, it was angry, vengeful and malicious as compared to the mocking tone before. 
> 
> Mycroft’s face turned icy, rigid and tense at the words. “Obviously Mary Morstan is not your real name. I repeat, who. Are. You?” He spoke through clenched teeth, seething with rage. His grip on the phone tightened in his worry and anger.
> 
> “Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes. I am sure you have a guess. Tell ~ me~ Make a good one.” She spoke slowly, dragging her words out, laughing slightly at the end. Her mood was high and jubilant, as if she had been victorious in her battle against him. In a way, she did win and Mycroft was blaming himself for his negligence.

_Stupid ! How stupid !_

Mycroft chastised himself as he frantically reached for his phone and dialing John’s number. John picked up quickly after just two rings and without waiting for John to speak, Mycroft immediately, _practically_ , shouted into the phone. “John ! Where are you !”

“ _How ~ very slow, Mr Holmes._ ” An unfamiliar voice snickered on the other side of the phone. Mycroft froze for a second but immediately recomposed himself, speaking in an icy tone. “Who are you?”

“ _Oh ~ I thought you would have already known my identity. Took you a while, a looooooooong while indeed._ ” The voice sneered, venom in the voice. “ _Slipping aren’t you? Emotions are such FUNNY things._ ” The person’s tone took a different turn almost instantly, it was angry, vengeful and malicious as compared to the mocking tone before.   

Mycroft’s face turned icy, rigid and tense at the words. “Obviously Mary Morstan is not your real name. I repeat, who. Are. You?” He spoke through clenched teeth, seething with rage. His grip on the phone tightened in his worry and anger.

“ _Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes. I am sure you have a guess. Tell ~ me~ Make a good one._ ” She spoke slowly, dragging her words out, laughing slightly at the end. Her mood was high and jubilant, as if she had been victorious in her battle against him. In a way, she did win and Mycroft was blaming himself for his negligence.

He breathed in deeply, trying to control his emotions, shoving all of the unhelpful anxiety, worry and concern into a box and push it far, far behind into his mind palace.

“I don’t have time for your games.”

“ _Tsk, tsk, tsk. Mr Holmes. I am afraid that you don’t exactly understand what’s happening, do you?_ ” ‘Mary Morstan’ laughed, her voice high and shrill. “ _Then let me give you a better understanding, shall I?_ ”

Mycroft frowned, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, like hundreds of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Not in anticipation but in fear. There was something sinister in her voice and he didn’t like this situation at all where he can only be passive.

The silence was unnerving but the sounds that were transmitted to him were equally unsettling. Mycroft heard a dull thud, as if someone used the back of a gun and hitting someone across the face with it, followed by a soft whimper. There was another thud, followed by a low, deep groan.

Mycroft’s jaw clenched, his whole body tense, when he realized exactly who made that sound. “ _I hope you heard that._ ” Mary Morstan’s voice suddenly appeared on the other end again. She sounded very pleased with herself and it fuelled Mycroft’s anger.

“ _I wouldn’t want to bruise that pretty face but she did not want to cooperate at all. What can I do? Sorry to have hurt your pretty asset. Give Sherlock Holmes my apologies as well._ ” Mary Morstan gloated, very proud of what she had done.

“ _So now you know, Mr Holmes, I guess you have more motivation to play my little game, do you not?_ ”

Mycroft shut his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. “Moran. You can quit your little game and tell me exactly what do you want.”

“ _Smart you, though you would have been smarter to have just played this little guessing game with me._ ” Moran spoke, voice no longer gleeful but serious and menacing.

 “Just tell me what you want Moran.” Mycroft was in no mood to play any of her games anymore but it seemed that placating her would be of utmost importance right now. After all, with both John and Molly in her hands, there’s really nothing else he could do other than to give in to her requests as much as he could without overstepping the boundaries.

“ _You know, dead people should just remain dead. It would have been so much easier for us, don’t you say? Sherlock Holmes should be dead, but it appears that even the grim reaper is very generous with him. I wonder why. WHY._ ” Moran’s voice was bordering on hysterics and maniac.

Mycroft didn’t respond immediately, having to think about the appropriate response in this situation.

Moran didn’t give him a chance to respond anyway, she simply told him in a matter-of-fact voice, “ _See you soon._ ” And the phone line went dead with a click.

“Moran, Moran !” Mycroft shouted at the now-dead connection. He cursed silently before dialing Anthea’s number. “I need you to send all the video feeds of all the cameras around Dr Watson’s clinic and Bart’s. Immediately. Now. This is a crisis. Do you get me? Get me all the information on Moran as well. Now.”

“ _Yes, sir._ ” Anthea replied instantly and then there was a ‘click’ sound.

Mycroft rubbed his hands over his face as the severity of the situation sank in. He knew Sherlock had taken down most of Moriarty’s network, but the second-in-command Moran had been elusive. That much he knew, of course she had been elusive if she had already been in London, hiding and leading a double life. But he didn’t expect the second sniper, Alexander. Who knew what his real name was.

They are moving and they are moving fast, like a sudden catalyst breathing new life into them. He just hope that they are fine. Sherlock would never let him off if anything happened to John Watson and Molly…. His Molly.

He failed her yet again.

 

* * *

 

“You are rather fortunate, Dr. Hooper.” Moran spoke as she ended the conversation, her back turned to Molly. Molly frowned, even if she knew Moran wouldn’t be able to see her expression. Her limbs were tied to the chair rather snuggly and no amount of struggling helped to give her even a bit of space. She could feel the rope burning into her skin as she tugged hard.  

“There’s no escape, Dr. Hooper. Why do you try so hard?” Moran gave a fake sigh. “Oh you can’t reply. I forgot.” She chuckled a little as she removed the cloth from Molly’s mouth. Molly glared at Moran, “What do you want?”

Moran didn’t respond, only moving over to check on the still unconscious John Watson, who was bound to a chair as well. He was heavily drugged and even a blow across his face didn’t wake him before.

“Dr. Hooper, how does it feel to recover something you thought you lost?” Moran suddenly spoke, her voice a little sad, a little yearning. She still had her back turned to Molly and Molly couldn’t see her expression but somehow thought that she must be having a forlorn expression.

Molly was surprised that this woman who was capable of all this would ask her this question in such a tone and with so much… emotions in her.

She knew Moran was referring to Mycroft.

She furrowed her brows in concentration, taking her time to answer it, struggling to find the exact words to express what she feels.

“It’s … a feeling that I cannot explain. There’s so much joy in recovering it but so much fear at the same time. If you could lose it once, you can always lose it again. The fear is paralyzing, but the joy is so motivating. It is a very … contradicting feeling actually.”

Moran grew silent.

“How great to be able to recover it then.” She turned around to look at Molly, she had a sad smile. “ _But how great it is_ , to watch Mycroft Holmes lose it all again.” Moran spoke, her sadness and vulnerability disappeared almost instantaneously, replaced by a malicious look. Her eyes glinted with menace.

Molly widened her eyes in surprise at both the words and the look on Moran’s face.

“What do you mean?” Her voice quivered a little.

“Exactly what I meant.” Moran leaned down, caressing Molly’s cheeks with a slightly evil grin on her face, her nails digging into Molly’s cheeks, causing her to wince.

“No hard feelings, dearie. _Just. Business_.”

Moran laughed a little as she straightened up and walked away, closing the door behind her, leaving the room in total darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I made Mary OOC again. Well, let's just call this a fanfic of OOC ! 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter is enjoyable ! I am on a roll ! The words come easily and before we know it, I think I can wrap things up already ! Whoooots !


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea stared at him for a moment without speaking, until Mycroft tapped the table twice impatiently, his eyebrows raised.
> 
> She coughed a little as she snapped out of it, a white envelope in her hand. “It’s a letter for you.”
> 
> Mycroft reached out for it, turning it to the back where he saw a signature. “Moran.” He said, voice low and void of emotions.
> 
> Anthea nodded as she watched Mycroft ripped open the letter. The letter was written in red, the smell of iron lingered even as some of it started to turn brown due to oxidation. Mycroft’s throat tightened. He knew it was blood. Just whose, that is the question.
> 
> “Come play with me at St. Bart’s. Just you. If you still want your pathologist in one piece. - Moran”
> 
> Mycroft furrowed his brows as he read the message, so painfully similar to the one Moriarty had sent to Sherlock just 2 years ago. This left a bad taste in his mouth, not just because it brought back unpleasant memories that were best to be left alone, but also because he knew that this is not just a warning. It is an ultimatum like the one between Sherlock and Moriarty.
> 
> Just that, this was between him and Moran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I revisited the old chapters and found so many loopholes that I just want to dig a hole in the ground and hide in it.  
> So much for not planning. Planning really helps and I regret it now. Would not go back and save it anyway, I know I would just end up giving it an overhaul. 
> 
> Probably would end up like a different story in the end. 
> 
> Life's been difficultly busy and draining. I didn't have the mood to write either, like being drowned in never ending work and sadness. It's just one of those more draining moments in life. Hopefully it would clear soon and the words come easier through the fatigue that I am feeling towards everything. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I think we should be approaching the end in a while. 
> 
> Would love to read your comments ! It would definitely help !

Mycroft sat in his office, eyes fixed on the screen, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard as he looked at several different video files simultaneously, his brain taking in all the information all at once.

Alexander was the one who entered the clinic and slipped out of the back with an unconscious Dr. Watson hauled over his shoulder during lunch break while Mary Morstan was the one who went into St. Bart’s and kidnapped Molly. Unlike Alexander, who was stealthy and tried to avoided as many cameras as he could, Mary Morstan or rather, Moran to be more accurate, made no efforts to avoid the cameras.

She even sneakily looked up at the camera with a smirk on her face, as if trying to taunt him. 

Mycroft blamed himself for this. If he had woken up earlier, ran through the files and videos and came to a conclusion earlier, he could have warned Molly and John, up their security until he caught both Alexander and Moran and none of this would have happened.

But he wanted to have a few more moments in bed with Molly, now he put her in danger and at a risk of losing her completely. And Sherlock, Mycroft put both his and John’s lives in danger when he should be the one protecting them. If anything happened, he is not sure if Sherlock would ever see him again, or worse, would even continue to live.

Like what John had said, John would follow wherever Sherlock went, even in death. It’s not impossible that Sherlock who claims that he doesn’t have a heart would follow wherever John went too.

Mycroft buried his face in his hands as his emotions interfered with the workings of his brain.

“Sir?” Anthea’s voice brought him back to reality and he snapped out of his despair. He straightened up in his seat, his face impassive.

Anthea stared at him for a moment without speaking, until Mycroft tapped the table twice impatiently, his eyebrows raised.

She coughed a little as she snapped out of it, a white envelope in her hand. “It’s a letter for you.”

Mycroft reached out for it, turning it to the back where he saw a signature. “Moran.” He said, voice low and void of emotions.

Anthea nodded as she watched Mycroft ripped open the letter. The letter was written in red, the smell of iron lingered even as some of it started to turn brown due to oxidation. Mycroft’s throat tightened. He knew it was blood. _Just whose, that is the question._

“Come play with me at St. Bart’s. Just you. If you still want your pathologist in one piece. - Moran”

Mycroft furrowed his brows as he read the message, so painfully similar to the one Moriarty had sent to Sherlock just 2 years ago. This left a bad taste in his mouth, not just because it brought back unpleasant memories that were best to be left alone, but also because he knew that this is not just a warning. It is an ultimatum like the one between Sherlock and Moriarty.

Just that, this was between him and Moran.

Anthea saw the message and she clenched her fist tightly, carefully out of Mycroft’s sight. “Sir, is there anything you need me to do?” She stared at Mycroft, waiting for him to lift his head.

Mycroft was silent for a moment.

“Anthea, get me my car, find Alexander and terminate him. As for Moran,” He breathed in deeply, “I will take her down myself.”

“I thought you didn’t like leg work.” Anthea joked, her voice strained and her smile forced. Mycroft looked up at her finally. “I don’t but this is more important than my own preference.” Anthea looked away from his gaze, understanding what he meant. “It’s dangerous but I trust you sir.”

None of them spoke, the silence in the air clung to their skin like a suffocating cling wrap. They are people who don’t talk more than necessary, silence have always been comfortable for them both but this silence.

It is heavy, suffocating and painful.

“Do you really not need protection? Are you really going alone?” Anthea asked finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  

“Anthea,” Mycroft begun, but he closed his mouth, choosing to shake his head at her instead.

“Mycroft,” Anthea said as she leaned down to stare at Mycroft, her eyes locked with his. It wasn’t very frequent she addresses him by his name instead of ‘sir’.

“Don’t you dare to die.” She swallowed the lump that’s forming at her throat as she said, her eyes watering but the tears not falling. “Don’t you even dare.” She repeated, enunciating each word loudly and clearly, her voice rose. Her gaze never once faltered as she said.

Mycroft was slightly taken aback at Anthea’s reaction, but he simply nodded, “I have no wishes to die of course. The only one going to be dead, would not be me.” Mycroft reassured her while Anthea scrutinized his face closely.

Truth be told, Mycroft is not exactly confident of his meeting with Moran. The sniper had been elusive, very clever even to slip through his surveillance so many times. This meeting could end well or end very badly. It could go both ways.

It was always worse when you have weaknesses in the hands of the enemy.

In the end, Anthea straightened up, giving up trying to guess if Mycroft had lied to her when he said that. He is brilliant at lying and detecting lies. It’s no use trying to pry information from him when he has no intentions of giving it.

She took out her phone as it vibrated, her eyes glancing at it for a moment before she said matter-of-factly, “The car’s here.” Her tone was nonchalant and even, as if her outburst before had been just an illusion.

“Thank you.” Mycroft said simply as he stood up, smoothing out his suit as he walked the door. He was saying thank you for a lot of things, just in case he would not have the chance to say it again.

_Thank you for your work, thank you for everything you have done for my family, thank you for considering me family, thank you for so many other things that I have never thanked you for, thank you…. For everything. Sorry._

Anthea knew he knew everything. Mycroft knew she knew what the thank you was for.

As he brushed past her, Anthea finally felt something wet and cold ran down her face. She heard the sound of breaking glass, the sound of breaking hearts.

She just stood there as she heard the door shut softly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He saw the timer slowly started counting down to 5.
> 
> 5.
> 
> He didn’t have a solution.
> 
> 4.
> 
> 3.
> 
> He turned to look at Molly, she smiled at him, a hand at her heart. I will be with you no matter what happens. He smiled.
> 
> 2\. Mycroft turned to look at Moran, still standing there, her gun still on him.
> 
> 1.
> 
> 0.
> 
> He waited for the flames to engulf them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, got this out. 
> 
> I don't know if it's good. I seem to just end up making everyone OOC. I guess I will have to work on it !   
> I think there's one last chapter before we say goodbye to this story !   
> It seemed to have deteriorated as the story progresses. T_T 
> 
> I apologise for that. 
> 
> I thank everyone for your comments !

It wasn’t a long trip from his office to St Bart’s but it felt like an eternity, felt like time was dragging itself out, painfully and agonisingly. Mycroft tapped his fingers on the leather seat of his car impatiently. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes as he retreated into his mind palace, the onslaught of information in his mind whirring about uncontrollably was too much to take and he needed to have peace restored in his mind.

He slowly traced his way into the west wing of his palace, his hand gently pushing open the door to reveal a brightly coloured room, filled with warmth and the smell of home. It was yellow, homey and filled with everything like Molly. He found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders gone as he stood in the room he had constructed for Molly.

Right in the center of the room was Molly, all snuggled up in her covers, looking up at him with those big, bright eyes, soft and loving. Mycroft walked towards her, his footsteps a little hesitant but never once stopped. When he stopped in front of her, he squatted down and held her face in his, he rested his forehead against hers, felt her nose against his, their breathing synchronized.

“I am sorry.” He said in a pained voice.

He felt Molly shook her head, her hands reaching up to touch his face, “You are not at fault.” She slowly pull away from him, but her hands still firmly on his face, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Mycroft, you will be able to make this right. We will be okay. You will save John and I. You can do it, I have faith in you. I am waiting for you and I will keep myself safe. Just focus on what you have to do and don’t worry about me.” She pats his face, “Have faith in me too.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. Mycroft found himself smiling as well.

“I have faith in you, always.” He smiled, bringing their foreheads together again, “Always.”

Mycroft slowly retraced his way out as he felt his mind clear. He felt the car slowed to a stop as he came out from his trance. His mask snapped into place as he looked up at the hospital towering above him. He got out of the car, making a slight wave of his finger to signal to the driver to drive off.

The phone vibrated in his pocket and he retrieved it, putting it to his ear.

“Moran,” Mycroft said emotionless as he stood in front of the hospital, unmoving.

“ _Very efficient indeed, not that I am surprised. You do have some precious cargoes with me.”_ Moran mocked, “ _Come on up, we are on the rooftop._ ”

Mycroft looked up with the phone still at his ear, squinting his eyes. He barely made out the silhouette of Moran leaning over the ledge, giving a small wave. “ _We will be waiting._ ” Moran said as the phone line went dead and he saw her release her grip on the phone. The phone landed on to the ground with a crash, splattering into many pieces.

Mycroft’s jaws tensed as he made his way into the hospital and up onto the roof.

Several scenarios ran through his mind within the few minutes that he had. He thought about what could Moran’s motivation be, he thought about how Molly would be, how John would be, several plans formed in his head  in that few minutes. When he finally reached the top, he braced himself as he straightened his back and opened the door, walking through it with confidence and an emotionless face.

Nothing prepared him for the sight that entered his eyes.

Moran was sitting by the ledge, a laptop carelessly abandoned by her feet and on its screen, there were several video feeds streaming at the same time. All of it was along the route he took, in the hospital, near his home. Both John and Molly was gagged and tied to a chair positioned right beside Moran. But what was most frightening was that explosives were strapped onto Molly.

Mycroft felt his throat tightened and his heart beat accelerating but on the surface, he still seemed nonchalant and unaffected. Moran was sitting right there on the ledge, a mocking smile on her lips as she stood up. Her eyes glanced towards her laptop before looking towards Mycroft. “Cameras are such wonderful things, so useful for tracking and for information. You know, I had been watching. Glad to see that you adhered to the instructions and came alone, had you not follow exactly what I said, I am afraid that when you were down on the pavement, the one crashing to the ground wouldn’t be Dr. Watson’s phone but your _precious_ pathologist.” She crackled, her eyes fixed on Mycroft the whole time.

“What do you want?” Mycroft asked for the umpteenth time since they have exchanged words. Every time he asked her, she would not give him an answer. Now that they have finally met, it would be unlikely for her to not give him a straight answer.

Moran stopped laughing at the question, her gaze turned hard and her expression darkened. She slowly drew up a pistol from the back of her trousers and pointed it at Molly’s head. “What I want?” She asked, her tone bitter and mocking. “Will telling you bring him back?”

Mycroft frowned, he turned to look at Molly. She couldn’t talk with the cloth stuffed in her mouth but she tried hard to smile at him. Her eyes soft as she looked at him. _I am fine._ She reassured him with a look.

He gave a slight nod of his head as he turned back to Moran. “I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what is it that you want.”

Moran snorted.

“As if telling you would help the situation one bit !” She snarled as she stared at Mycroft, her eyes burning with rage, her lips quivering slightly. She took a deep breath as she took walked a few steps forward, the gun still pointing at Molly.

 “YOUR BROTHER AND YOU KILLED MORIARTY, YOU PEOPLE KILLED HIM.” She bellowed at him in rage, in anguish, in devastation. Her eyes never leaving his as her expression warped into one of anger and pain. Mycroft understood immediately.

He saw something in Moran’s eyes. It was ice cold, but there was a vulnerability in it, carefully concealed, but her outburst was the manifestation of all the emotions she bottled up in her, betraying everything she worked to keep hidden.

“It’s unfortunate but Moriarty already knew that the game he played was dangerous and could only have one outcome. It ends only with the death of one or both of them. You knew that.” Mycroft spoke, slowly. Moran simply laughed. A bitter laughter.

“I knew. Of course I knew.” She shook her head. “But Sherlock Holmes should be dead. Every one of you should be dead. Sherlock Holmes should have just kept to the rules and died on the pavement that day. He should have. Then his friends would be safe and you, the one who caused his death, would no longer be my concern. But he didn’t. And Moriarty’s dead. My partner. Is dead.” Moran said through clenched teeth, her fist clenching and unclenching.

“Playing this game would not bring him back.” Mycroft stated matter-of-factly.

Moran scoffed, “It wouldn’t. But I am just making it right, like how it should have been in the first place. All of you would die. Just like you should have been.”

Mycroft’s hand tightened into a fist as he pressed his lips together.

Moran glanced casually towards the back, her eyes on the explosive tied to Molly, the timer slowly counting down.

“2 minutes now. Then everyone here, including your dear brother would die.” She smirked a little as she slowly circled Mycroft, the gun now pointing at him. She slowly backed away to the exit, leaning against the wall.

Mycroft stared at her warily, preparing himself for her attack. But it never came.

“Mr Holmes. How about this? If you could get the explosives off Dr. Hooper and stop it from exploding in time, I would let all of you walk free.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her, “Why? You wanted us dead, so why?”

Moran smiled, a sly smile.

“I just thought that it would be wonderful to see how you would act when so much is at stake. I want to see you desperate, see you panic, see you fear. It’s a fair exchange to rip that mask of yours into smithereens, to see the great Mycroft Holmes fall at my feet. That is,” She smirked, “if you could stop the bomb.”

Moran looked at her watch, “You don’t have much longer, hurry along, Mr Holmes. You don’t want to be late, do you?” She gave her a small wave of her hand, gesturing for him to faster get to it.

Mycroft gritted his teeth as he stared at her but there were more important things at hand. He quickly turned to Molly, footsteps hurried. He knelt down beside her as he removed the cloth in her mouth and quickly pressed a brief kiss to her cheeks.

“ _Mycroft_ ,” Molly cried out as soon as the cloth was removed from her mouth. His eyes met hers and he gave a tense smile as his fingers worked quickly to free her arms. It’s too late to call for the bomb disposal squad now and he could only hope that he could bring Molly and John to safety.

He quickly worked on the explosives that were strapped on Molly while Molly worked on freeing her legs. She looked down at Mycroft who briefly glanced up towards her, “I will keep you safe.” He whispered.

She nodded with pressed lips. She believes everything that Mycroft says even when it looks bleak. Mycroft let out a small sigh of relief as he finally removed the explosives from her. Molly threw it onto the floor as the timer slowly counted down towards 15 seconds.

She held Mycroft’s hands tightly, “Even if we don’t make it out alive, I want you to know, I don’t blame you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, gently whispering “ _I love you_ ” as their lips parted.

Molly quickly went over to free the unconscious John while Mycroft quickly worked on the bomb. But he knew, the only way to defuse it was to blow it up, which certainly was not an option right now.

There are lives at stake, not just his, but everyone in the hospital.

He saw the timer slowly started counting down to 5.

5.

He didn’t have a solution.

4.

3.

He turned to look at Molly, she smiled at him, a hand at her heart. _I will be with you no matter what happens._ He smiled.

2\. Mycroft turned to look at Moran, still standing there, her gun still on him.

1.

0.

He waited for the flames to engulf them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All good things come to an end, Mr Holmes. All. Good. Things. It would be such a delight to see you suffering just like I did. In the end, this was just too easy. Checkmate, Mr Holmes.” She smirked as she saw horror spreading across his face. Her finger resting on the trigger. “Say goodbye to your pathologist.” She hissed as her finger slowly pushed the trigger.

The anticipated explosion did not happen, much to everyone’s surprise. Molly blinked rapidly, uncertain if this was reality. She looked towards Mycroft who held the same surprised look on his face.

Molly saw Mycroft furrowed his brows as he turned to stare at Moran, still in the same position as before. “What exactly are you playing at?” He asked Moran, his face was blank. Moran simply shrugged her shoulder, “I told you, I want to see you panic, see you fear, see your mask fall to pieces.” She pushed herself off the wall with ease and slowly walked towards them.

Mycroft’s eyes watched her like a hawk, wary of her approach.

She stopped walking while there was still some distance between them.

Moran smiled a little, “It’s just a little game.” The forgotten gun was retrieved from her back pocket and she cocked it, slowly lifting her arm and pointing the gun in Molly’s direction. Mycroft’s eyes darted towards Molly who was struggling to untie John.

Moran saw his gaze flicker to Molly and snorted. “Moriarty probably never expected the Iceman to have a heart. He probably never did thought you would care for anyone other than the Queen.” Moran spoke slowly, “But of course you did. You know, I saw.” She nodded her head as she said it.

Mycroft’s gaze fell back on Moran’s face, his face impassive.

“Saw what?” He asked.

Moran sighed and rolled her eyes, “I saw you at the hospital. Never thought you would be such a passionate person. Maybe it’s true when they say, the colder a person, the greater their inner fire burn.”

“It was you that shot Sherlock.” Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

Moran gave a fake sigh, “Of course I did! I was only planning to burn Molly Hooper’s apartment actually. But to think that I had the _great_ fortune to encounter the great Sherlock Holmes while trying to retrieve the documents Magnusson had on me, it was simply too great an opportunity to pass up.” Moran laughed as she admitted her deeds.

“Too bad he didn’t die then.” Moran said nonchalantly as she continued, “Oops. It seems like I said too much.” She said as she brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide in fake shock. She giggled a little as she took a step towards Molly, the gun still locked on her.

“All good things come to an end, Mr Holmes. _All. Good. Things._ It would be such a delight to see you suffering just like I did. In the end, this was just too easy. Checkmate, Mr Holmes.” She smirked as she saw horror spreading across his face. Her finger resting on the trigger. _“Say goodbye to your pathologist.”_ She hissed as her finger slowly pushed the trigger.

It all happened in a split second.

Mycroft quickly pushed himself off the ground and threw himself in front of Molly just as Moran pushed the trigger, shielding her from the attack. Molly’s eyes widened in shock, her body still. She didn’t know what happened till she heard the gunshot. She only saw someone leap in front of her, blocking out the light and in the next moment, she heard the gunshot and Mycroft was in front of her, a weak smile on his lips. His eyelids slowly drooping.

“Mycroft?” She called out, her voice trembling just like her hand was, as she reached out to him, slowly crawling over to him. “Mycroft? Talk to me, _please._ ” She pleaded, her vision blurring from the tears that gathered. She wanted to take his shoulders in her hand and shake him, but she knew that it would serve no purpose other than to make his condition more serious than it already is. 

Moran was silent as she took in the sight, a bitter taste in her mouth.

She succeeded.

She did.

Then why does she feel like crying now.

The many memories that she had with Moriarty came flooding back to her. They had known each other for years, many long years. They had known each other before he was the consulting criminal and she, his sniper. She had loved him before he did, she followed him wherever he went, she picked up the sniper rifle for him. The amount of bullets he took for her in the beginning was quite a number. It would always pain her as she helped him to dress the wounds, the wounds that should have belonged to her.

He simply shrugged it off every single time and hid his grimace whenever he accidentally touched the wound. Some were more serious than the others, but they survived it all the same. Until now.

Until now.

The sight hit a raw nerve. It hit a spot in her heart that hurt so badly as she thought about it.

She could never have him back.

No matter what.

The person who would take a bullet for her, hold her in a tight embrace when she had nightmares, the person who loved her, was gone. She touched the silver band on her ring finger gently as she looked on. Her mind in a mess.

Molly took off her lab coat, scrunching it and applying it to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Don’t you dare die on me, Mycroft. DON’T YOU DARE!” She shouted as she tried to seal the wound on three sides, leaving a valve for air to escape. She gently slapped Mycroft’s face, “If you dare die on me, if you dare… If you …” Molly sobbed, her voice catching in her throat, unable to finish her sentence.

Mycroft’s eyelids fluttered open with difficulty, he tried to smile but he couldn’t find the strength. Molly hiccupped, “I am going to get help, you .. you.. are going to live. You are going to make good of all your promises to me. You.. I… Mycroft….” She took a deep breath, “I want you … in my future… so you.. better don’t die on me.” Molly wiped her eyes with her free hand, her voice breaking as she speak.

Mycroft couldn’t find the strength in him to continue anymore. His eyes slowly shut and no amount of shouting on Molly’s part made him open his eyes. “Mycroft Holmes!” She shouted, but he gave no response.

Molly tried to reach for her phone, but then she remembered that Moran took her phone. She glared at the woman before her. Moran stood there unmoving, her arms by her side, the gun still tightly held in her hand. Her expression was unreadable but Molly could see the sorrow in her eyes, as if reminiscing a painful memory. But no amount of pity stories would make Molly sympathize with Moran.

Molly looked away as she dug in Mycroft’s pocket, trying to reach for his phone without aggravating his wound. “Hang in there, hang in there,” Molly whispered frantically, over and over again as she tried to find the phone.

Moran stared as Molly tried desperately to find the life-saving phone. Her face was expressionless when she threw the phone at Molly, landing it right by her feet. Molly looked up in confusion but Moran had already turned her back on Molly, making her exit.

Molly didn’t understand the sudden change in Moran’s attitude but the matter on hand was more pressing. She quickly took the phone in hand and dialed her colleague’s number, “Mark, please,” She tried to stop the sobs as she spoke, hiccupping through her words. “I am on the roof, someone’s been shot. Faster, two stretchers, there’s another person unconscious. Please.” She begged and she didn’t care if she didn’t make sense.

She could feel the lab coat getting soaked with blood, the life slowly flowing out of Mycroft.

She heard Mark end the call and she could only wait.

Wait for help to arrive and watch on helplessly as Mycroft’s face slowly paled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter ! 
> 
> I had great fun and lots of angst while writing it, I wanted to cry a little when I wrote Molly as well as Moran. I really liked Moran a bit. I think there's one last chapter to go before I can mark this as complete ! 
> 
> Mugglebornprincess guessed it correctly in the previous chapter that the bomb was fake. Well, it was supposed to be real but then I searched how to defuse bomb and realised that there isn't much other ways other than blowing it up deliberately in a place where it can safely be done. 
> 
> I may be wrong though ! 
> 
> So it ended up becoming a fake bomb ! 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter ! I did and I enjoyed everyone's thoughtful comments !


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart’s home is you, and the fiction I’ve dreamt of is finally reality with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH YAY. WE ARE DONE !   
> I don't know if anyone would like this chapter because I find it so difficult to write the ending.   
> I am not suitable for fluff, so I hope this is not a disappointing ending at all !   
> Thank you for all the kind comments and I hope that my writing would improve from now till the next fic !

Molly woke up with a start, realising that she had nodded off just a while ago. She rubbed her hands over her face wearily as she looked over immediately to the monitor which displayed Mycroft’s vitals. Everything was stable. She stifled her yawn as she slowly stood up from her seat.

Her legs were numb and she could feel the tingling sensation travelling up her limbs as she moved closer to the bed. She frowned at the discomfort but she endured the discomfort as she gently pulled the blanket higher over Mycroft till they cover his chest and helped to wet his lips with a little bit of ice.

She sighed.

It had been 3 days since the shooting and a lot of things happened within the few days he was out cold and unconscious on the hospital bed. Molly doesn’t need to relive the long and agonising moments as she waited outside the operating theatre but looking at his motionless form on the bed, save for the rising and falling of his chest, the memories came flooding back.

The whole ordeal had been so dreadful. Molly could recall that for the first time in a long time, she hated the sterile smell of the hospital that lingers in the air. It wasn’t just the smell of disinfectant that irritated her, there was an underlying scent of death that gripped her heart with fear.

Molly had hugged her knees tightly to her chest, her head buried in the space between her knees and chest. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing as she waited for news. She didn’t stop until the tears had dried up completely, she didn’t stop until she was totally exhausted, her throat sore from all the crying.

The operating theatre light remained brightly lit for several hours and when it finally went off and Molly heard the theatre door opening, her head shot up in an instant, her eyes immediately finding the doctor’s face. Mark’s expression was neutral and Molly felt herself unconsciously holding her breath.

“He is currently fine,” he started and Molly felt herself relax a fraction, “But,”

The ‘but’ in the sentence made her heart skipped a beat, “But what?”

“The bullet has been removed but Dr. Hooper, you know how it is with wounds like these.”

Molly swallowed, giving a slight nod of her head, tensing up and bracing for the news Mark was going to deliver. “He had been very lucky with this wound and would most likely survive it if he could pull through the next 24 hours without any complications. We will be monitoring his situation closely so you don’t have to be so worried.” Mark pat Molly on the shoulder as he said, “Get some rest. He will be in 401.”

He looked at her for a moment before leaving her alone in the corridor, she was still a little dazed.

 _He survived. He is fine now. He would be fine now._ Molly thought. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes again as she let out a soft cry. He didn’t die. Thank God. Now she knew exactly how John had felt in the moments of hearing Sherlock’s news. She don’t think she can go through another ordeal like this again.

After a while, Molly breathed in deeply and composed herself, wiping away her tears before slowly helping herself up and making her way to the hospital ward. She entered the room softly even though she knew that he wouldn’t wake up so quickly, not with the anesthesia still flowing in his system. Molly dragged a chair closer to his bed and huddled up on the chair, trying to be as close to him as possible.

She needed to be near him.

Molly stayed there by his bedside the entire time, wanting to be there for the moment he woke up. Molly didn’t leave his side for longer than a few hours at most to wash up or change into a fresh set of clothes at Anthea’s place.

Mycroft had pulled through the 24 hours without any complications and Molly was relieved by the news. It wouldn’t be very much longer till he regains consciousness then.

Molly had taken a week off work to stay with him. She couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from him at this moment, especially when he is still unconscious. She was constricted by an irrational fear that one of the bodies delivered to the morgue would belong to him. She knew he was safe and stable, he isn’t going anywhere. But the fear wouldn’t go away, not until he wakes up.

Now, 3 days later. He was still doing fine, his heart beating strong though he hadn’t regain consciousness.

Molly dragged the chair closer to the bed and she sat down on it again, hand reaching out to hold his. It was warm and that reassured Molly. _Dead people don’t feel like this._ She shook her head, as if trying to remove that thought from her head.

“Mycroft…” She started softly, “It has been 3 days now, you are really trying to catch up on lost sleep are you?” She joked, smiling sadly even though she knows he can’t see. “It has been rather chaotic without you. John’s fine, turns out that Moran didn’t go easy on the sedatives. Sherlock’s recovering fine as well. You should hear him spewing out deductions at everyone when he’s bored. Not a single nurse wants to attend to him now.” She laughed a little when she remembered how exasperated Lestrade was when he approached her, begging her to do something about the obnoxious git.

“Anthea came a few times to check on you, she said that A.G.R.A has been taken down. I don’t understand what that meant but I know you would.” Molly said, the sad smile still hanging on her lips.

She held his hand next to her cheek as she continued relating all the things that transpired while he was unconscious.

“You know…” Molly said slowly, albeit hesitantly, “Moran is dead too. Anthea found her body in a small apartment near Leincester Gardens. I guess, for her, there isn’t anything worth living for anymore.” Molly bit her lips as she thought of what other more joyous things to talk about. She tilted her head to the left a little as she spoke.

“You know, I think I have an affinity for dead people. I mean,” She blushed a little, it’s quite inappropriate to talk about dead people now, isn’t it? But she continued anyway.

 “I work in a morgue, I find my job interesting and fascinating, I was in love with a dead man, well, who is now alive. Then I fell in love with a then-dead man’s brother who is now lying on the bed like a dead man. Actually, I don’t even know what I am talking about anymore. I think I need to sleep.” Molly hid her face in her hand when she thought about all the nonsense she was babbling.

The lack of sleep is really getting to her, making her sprout nonsense that doesn’t make sense.

“Molly… I have to agree with Sherlock that you are really not any good at making small talks.” Mycroft’s voice came from above, weak and hushed but Molly could hear him clearly. He looked at her in amusement as Molly stared unbelievably at him, her mouth gaping.

 “Mycroft?” She spoke uncertainly, unsure if it was just a dream. Was she hallucinating? She pinched herself on the cheeks and yelped in pain.  

Mycroft laughed a little, his hand that she held tenderly was slowly caressing her cheeks.

“I am here. You are not dreaming.”

Molly nodded, smiling as her tears dropped. Words are too weak, too insignificant to describe the feelings that she had in her at that moment in time. 3 days. But it felt like eternity. Felt like time was slowly ripping her apart.

3 days. It was long, it was horrendous.

But when he opened his eyes, Molly felt that she had all the happiness in the world.

 

* * *

 

Mycroft’s hospital stay was a busy one after Anthea knew that he was awake.

She visited daily, occasionally with flowers, but mostly, it was files and documents for him to go through and sign.

Molly frowned and insisted for him to leave work till when he’s recovered but he just sighed and said, “And give it a few more days, England would fall. Such incompetent politicians.” He sighed while shaking his head, signing yet another document.

Molly looked at him for a moment before relenting, there’s no stopping the workaholic. though she did force him to sleep when he needed to.

She had gone back to work after the first week, dropping in to visit him whenever she could. But she still spent the night by his bedside. Mycroft told her that he was fine and she could always stay at his place while her apartment’s still being restored. There really wasn’t much sense in enduring all the discomfort when she could sleep restfully.

But Molly was stubborn when she wanted to be and Mycroft, realizing that there was no way she is going to listen to him, sighed resignedly. But, it did make him smile a little.

Molly was always recounting all the things that happened in the day to him. It felt a little ….domestic and Mycroft realized that, it might not be a terrible thing after all.

At the end of the second week, Mycroft was finally declared fit enough to be discharged.

 “We’re finally going home,” Mycroft said softly as he leaned back into the car seat, his fingers intertwined with Molly’s. The idea of ‘home’ had never been this warm. Mycroft smiled as sat closer to him, her head gently leaning on his shoulder.

It’s an idea he could get used to.

He cannot wait till they get home. He tried hard to contain his smile, but it’s to no avail. He tightened his hand and Molly looked up at him, a little bewildered by the bright smile on Mycroft’s face.

She found the answer when they arrived at his place.

Molly had been the one to open the door and when he did, she swore that she shouted in delight. “Toby !” She bent down and picked him up, the cat meowing loudly in her arms. “How?” She turned to look at Mycroft who was standing by the door, his beam was infectious. Does Mycroft Holmes beam? Apparently he does.

Molly hugged Toby tightly, her nose nuzzling his neck when she felt something metallic and cold. She looked up bewildered, Mycroft simply gestured with a tilt of his head for her to take a look at it. Molly gently looked under the collar around Toby’s neck and there it was.

She carefully unfastened the collar to retrieve the small ring. She took it in her hand and she just stared at him wordlessly, her mouth opened in surprise. Mycroft took a step forward, his hand gently wrapping around hers. He took a deep breath.

“I am good at lying, manipulating people, deducing people, entertaining imbeciles with patience that amaze me. People believe that I have a glib tongue, that I always know the right words to say. That much is true.” Mycroft sighed inaudibly, his forehead leaning against Molly’s.  

“But I don’t know what the right words are to tell someone that I care, I love and I hurt. I know the right things to do in an emergency, in a crisis, but I don’t know the right things to do to show that I love. You know it firsthand that I can be as clumsy in words as I am glib when I meet the right person. I am not clueless to love, I am just unsure of how to love.”

His hand tightened as he slowly continued, “I am not the best choice to be anyone’s husband, I admit, I am also sure that Sherlock would agree with that,” Mycroft made a little grimace, causing Molly to giggle a little, “I don’t know anything about being anyone’s husband and I thought I would probably die alone until I found you. But you don’t have to be worried about that because I am not daft and I pick things up rather quickly.” He joked a little, trying to calm his racing heart. He paused a little, collecting his thoughts.

He spoke, softly and slowly.

“I used to find marriage and sentiments to be nothing but trouble, but now, I would happily take on the trouble if it meant that I could always be with you, to care for you, to love you as your husband.” He frowned a little, the word ‘husband’ a little unnatural, unused to the sound of that term coming out of his mouth. “I may not be the best choice, but I would do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“Molly,” He stared at her intently as he said the words carefully, “Would you marry me?”

 Molly knew it was inappropriate, but she laughed. “Sorry, I mean, I just,” She laughed a little more as she brought a hand to her mouth. “I know this is inappropriate but, sorry, I just couldn’t stand watching you so tense, your face so serious like England has fallen. Pardon me,” Molly said as she continued laughing.

She knew she was impossible. Mycroft had a mildly amused yet exasperated look on his face while he watched her laugh. He sighed again as he pull her into a hug, his head on top of hers. “God knows how I fell in love with a woman like you. It’s not easy for me to do this. You know that we Holmes don’t exactly have the capacity to express ourselves.”

Molly settled down after a while, when she felt calm enough to respond, she spoke quietly as she placed a hand on his heart. “I told you before, I couldn’t believe that you would fall in love with me and here I am, unable to believe that you proposed. It’s very different from how I imagined it to be. I have also thought that perhaps you wouldn’t want to be tied down by marriage as well. It’s surreal. But you know, Mycroft? The answer would always be a yes. My home has always been you.” She smiled as she lifted her head, her eyes finding his. She tiptoed a little, gently placing her lips on his. _It has always been you._

Mycroft smiled as he returned the kiss, slowly pulling apart from her. He lifted her hand and lightly pushed the ring onto her ring finger. In one fluid motion, the ring now sits snuggly on her finger.

He pressed his lips against hers again, soft and tender.

“Molly Hooper, I love you.” He said with a smile, his eyes were glistening as hers were as he rested his forehead against hers.

In that moment, Mycroft finally felt the void in his heart closed, filled with the love, hopes and promises of the future. He could already imagine how it would be with Molly.

 

* * *

 

Or so he thought.

Mycroft held open the fridge door for a moment before shutting it again. He frowned. He opened the door again and as he finally confirmed what was in the fridge, he gave a resigned sigh.

“Molly !” He shouted to the bedroom, “Make Sherlock pick up the body parts in the morgue! Don’t pick up his terrible habits of keeping body parts in the fridge!” He sighed as he closed the door again.

As he turned around, Molly was standing there in the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her pregnant belly sleepily. She hugged him from behind, her head resting against his back, “He just likes to wind you up.” She said through her yawn.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “And you indulged him in it.”

Molly giggled, “You have to admit that it’s fun watching your reactions.”

Mycroft gave an exasperated sigh but he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up his face as he relaxed into her embrace. “I must make sure to keep the little one from Sherlock in future.” He mumbled under his breath.

“You wish,” Molly responded softly.

Married life was similar and yet different to how Mycroft had imagined it to be, but he cannot deny that it’s the simple things in life that brings him the greatest happiness.

“I love you.”

_My heart’s home is you, and the fiction I’ve dreamt of is finally reality with you._


End file.
